Lost and Found
by A Muffin with a Mission
Summary: Harry always felt that people demanded more of him than he could give, and the more he gave, the more they wanted from him. At this rate, there wouldn't be anything left. Challenge from The Hazel-eyed bookworm.
1. Chapter 1

**This was started because of a challenge from The Hazel-eyed bookworm. Thanks for my very first challenge! I look forward to continuing this in the future. (PS. For those who have read A Missing Sword, this is one of the fics I plan to work on while that is on Hiatus.)**

**This first chapter was made with the help of said Bookworm, thanks for all of the inspiration!**

**This is pretty fun to write, and it's good to get some variety once in a while. So enjoy! XD**

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The events leading Harry to his position in Dumbledore's office were much different than the usual ones. Rather than the actions of one Draco Malfoy and his goons, or the antics of some other villainous persona against his own person, there was no one to blame but himself.

It was his own decision to break into The Department of Mysteries, all because he couldn't tell the difference between his own thoughts and those of that poisonous snake, Voldemort. It was SO STUPID. If it weren't for him, his only family member would be still alive. After surviving all of those years on the run from the Ministry, the dementors, and almost everyone else, his Godfather was dead because of his stupid mistake.

The face his Godfather made when falling through would haunt him for the rest of his life, no doubt. The utter fear and shock as he fell backwards towards the dark stone arch looming forebodingly in the background like the hangman's noose ready to snatch its victim away.

He didn't know how what was on the other side, but he could only hope that it was better than what he left behind.

But the fight between Dumbledore and Voldemort had been utter agony. The feeling of being forcefully possessed, the attempt to control him entire time they fought. Even through the consuming pain, he could feel some kind of sick pleasure out of seeing Voldemorts pain. He couldn't possess him. That was good. He was also miserable and alone. Not good. But maybe he deserved it after all of the mistakes he had made over the course of his short life. Now the knowledge that nothing would change? The thought that his godfather, his parents- their deaths. The thought that they might not mean anything? That was terrifying. If his parents and godfather, some of the best wizards of their generation, the thought that their deaths were all for nothing is terrifying. If they couldn't defeat the dark wizard hell-bent on destroying the world, what chance did he have? Not a snowball's chance in hell.

If he was- If he was supposed to die in this war, what could he actually accomplish with it? What would he be able to do? Would it just be throwing his life away, with no actual accomplishment?

Leaning back into the chair, feeling like the world was resting on his shaking and bent shoulders, he couldn't help but ask, "Why?" his voice broke on the single word.

"Why me?! Why couldn't it be anyone else?! Out of all the people in the world, all of the people HE has wronged and hasn't, what makes me the one that has to fight him?! Why not Hermione, the smartest witch in the school?! Why not you?! Why can't you do it?! How many more people that I care about have to die for Voldemort to finally lose?! Why? Why?...Why?"

Dumbledore looked torn, there was nothing he could say to those completely true words. Harry shouldn't have to fight; Children weren't supposed to. They shouldn't have to grow up hated and alone, to have to face the expectations of countless others, all based on the single action of another that ended up defining his entire life up to this point. Why?

But he knew why. Life wasn't fair, and there really was no one else but him that could do it. It was fate. And even he couldn't deny fate its wants and desires. It had a nasty way of getting what it wanted, in the end.

Leaning across the table, he put his hands on the trembling boy opposite him's shoulders, rubbing soothingly with his thumbs, "You're right. You shouldn't have to go through this, to experience all of this so young. No one of any age should have to go through what you have, and many wouldn't have survived to this point." He could see Harry's teary eyes glancing up through disheveled bangs, glinting a light yellow green, contrary to their normal shade of emerald.

"But- it has to be you. As much as I wish it was someone else, as much as I wish that I could take that horrible burden from you. I cannot. It is not my place. One cannot go against the hand of fate, lest they be crushed under the weight of change. And the Wizarding World, my boy, "is not strong enough for change."

A calculating look came upon him, "But, young Harry one day you might be."

Harry felt no pride, there was nothing that could save him and others from his own mistakes. He didn't want to focus on his own guilt, the feeling he felt that this could have been avoided had he been given more information, that he hadn't gone in locked out of the secrets about himself. He couldn't contain that feeling of rage at the rest of the world, for doing this to him. For people for being so horrible, for being so weak. The incensed need for revenge on that bloody bitch Bellatrix Lestrange. He could have killed her, he had had her in his power, only his own feeling of mercy that saved her wretched life. The whispers of his own guilt and underlying anger fueled this hatred. He wanted to live. He wanted the whole Wizarding World to figure it out without him. But most of all, he wanted the hag to pay in blood.

"Dumbledore," he whispered through his teeth garnering the old man's attention from his own thoughts, "I want the bitch that made all of this happen to pay. I want her to die. Painfully, choking on her own blood. I want her to pay."

Dumbledore looked askance at this formerly unseen behavior by his student, "Harry, I understand that you are upset-"

Here he was cut off, "UPSET?! UPSET?! I AM ABSOLUTELY LIVID!" breathing hard he ranted "She took away one of the last people that was my family! She took away any kind of future I had with him!" He grit his teeth so hard that he bit his tongue, and sat there in the chair, hands gripping the armrests too hard, and breathing fast and deep.

"Harry, suffering like this proves you are still a man, only monsters feel no anger; no regret. This pain is part of being human-" No doubt the Headmaster would have had further to say on the issue, likely some inspirational quote on the durability of the human spirit, or the supposed "power of love" that he always harped on about, but Harr Rising to his feet, Harry's green eyes seemed to glow in fury and fear, and a momentary flash of uncontrolled madness, glaring at the slightly agitated and worried visage of Albus

Dumbledore he roared, "THEN I DON'T WANT TO BE HUMAN!"

A deep-seated silence followed that statement, and both Harry and Dumbledore appeared to be processing what was stated. Two faces, two separate expressions. One younger, a look of realization, then determination. The other older, shocked, concerned and finally regretful.

"Harry, my dear boy, I am deeply sorry for your loss. As am I equally sorry for withholding the prophecy and its contents from you. I only wanted you to have a normal childhoo-"

A raised hand silenced the Headmaster, interrupting him for the second time in such a short period.  
"Stop, Professor. Apologies will get us nowhere."

Harry's expressionless face unnerved Albus far more than the outburst earlier. The concern on his face deepened, and he brought his hands together cautiously, as if to not alarm a wild animal.

"Harry, maybe it is best if you go to bed, and think about the past and the future for a bit. Maybe it will help you decide on the actions you want to take on the present. Maybe you will find a bit of the peace you deserve." He kept his eyes fixed on the young boy- no man- that sat in the chair across from him. He had faced and triumphed against too much to still be called a child. Eyes to the floor, hair across his eyes hiding them from view.

A breathy and tired exhale, "Fine."

Rising stiffly from his chair, he made to leave, but stopped and turned, eyes downcast, but voice sad and hopeful, "The Prophecy. Can it be wrong? Is there...Is there no way to get out of it?"Swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat, Harry's thoughts moved rapidly, thinking of any possible inclinations towards the affirmative, only to come to a crashing halt at the responding words.

"No, my boy. I regret to inform you that such things are set in stone...I have to ask the unthinkable of you, time and time again. You will never know the depths of my sorrow." For the first time since Harry had come to Hogwarts, the venerable old wizard looked every year of his 115 years, and it almost made him desire to abandon his plans that were stewing in the back of his mind. Almost.

Harry turned his eyes back to the floor and nodded, before turning to exit. Interrupted by a soft "Harry?" he turned, "I will, try Harry.I will try to make it so you don't face that fate. But very few ever win the battle against the Moirai, the fates. But Harry, I will try."

He gave the headmaster a bleak and forgiving smile, "I know you will.", but he might have a solution to the problem that might just save himself, from everyone else.

* * *

_Later in the Dormitory_

* * *

After that emotional rollercoaster that he couldn't seem to stop , he felt like he should take the Headmasters advice. He needed to think, he had some important decisions to make for his future. He had the inklings of what could be a lifesaving gambit, meant to save himself from the death wished for by most everyone else. He didn't want to be anyones martyr, he just wanted to be himself, little Harry Potter, worrying about the things that everyone else had to, rather than some grand scheme of good versus evil.

That little plan started with a gift he thought he would never get to use, one unobtrusive square of leather, smooth and written in hard to read chicken scratch mixed with spiraling script. In that unsuspecting little book was detailed the steps of one of the most difficult magical transformations in Magic. It detailed how to become an animagus. Written by the only people to ever become one and never register.

Something that he hoped would get him out of this...destiny...that lay before him.

Opening his trunk he dug out a package, wrapped in plain red wrapping-paper, shaped like a small rectangle, something he could easily fit into the pocket of his robes. Badly wrapped, torn in some places, and a few splotches that looked suspiciously like dog slobber, it felt like home.

It had been a Christmas present from Sirius, one he had carefully hidden from Ron and the others, at the man's instruction. Should he try it?

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**I in no way own anything as awesome as Firebreather or Harry Potter.**


	2. Chapter 2

**I am uploading all of the chapters I have at once! More to come.**

**Disclaimer: I wish I owned either Harry Potter or Firebreather, but sadly, that is not the case.**

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"And stay in there you ungrateful brat! - Or I'll, I'll"

Harry couldn't stop the confrontational retort from climbing its way out of his throat, "Or you'll what?!"

The fat man's face turned an overripe puce color "I'll- wring your scrawny little neck!"

Harry's only reply was to only reach a hand towards his pocket, eyes narrowed dangerously, and whisper, "I'd like to see you try."

His face blanched an unhealthy white. The last words before he disappeared behind the shield that was the door was a more panicked than angry "STAY!" and then there was the loud slam reverberating unpleasantly off the walls of the rubbish filled room.

The last few months at the Dursley's had been absolutely killer. If it hadn't been one thing, it had been another, but it ended in a mostly one-sided shouting match through the door. But it hadn't ever been to this point. That was the last time he had left his room since he had been interned in this stupid place.

Which meant he had more than enough time to experiment.

In the smallest bedroom of Number 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, illuminated by a simple set of candles, Harry Potter sat in complete motionlessness. Before him was the journal his father and his friends had written in, detailing their accounts of the difficult animagus transformation, a journal Harry had read well over a dozen times during his stay in Durskaban. Though his "family" had been relatively ...civil due to the Dementor incident last summer.

But really, He would much rather be in his room than out with the suckling pig boy and that sow. The feeling of animosity that he had experienced in Dumbledore's office had only increased in his time away from the school. Back before he had gone to the order earlier in the year, no one had talked to him, they kept him in the dark. Rather than stay with people who cared about him, the foisted him off on his emotionally abusive relatives. He couldn't help but be resentful towards the people who were most likely happier than he was, and even more so in that they could get away from their troubles, while he was stuck in the muggle world with no way to escape his negative thoughts.

No way except his animagus studies. He wasn't exactly sure how no one from the ministry had been to his door yet, but he wasn't exactly surprised. He knew for a fact that Voldemort was in charge over there, so it might be in their best interests to leave him alone for now. Better to have the enemy in familiar territory rather than in an unknown place.

But since they hadn't come for him yet, he felt like they had given him the go ahead to use magic anyway. After that embarrassment at court, he felt like they wouldn't be coming for him any time soon.

So he found himself leafing through the already memorized pages of the book, fingers tracing softly over slightly faded ink, the occasional ink splatter of an abused quill. The words wove a tale of daring and adventure, the occasional mistake and the sporadic inside joke.

He could just imagine the adventures behind the words, the laughter behind the jokes. The comradery, friendship, family. If they had been here, he could've had that. But no. He shook his head, the past wasn't something to be stuck on. It was something to be remembered, grieved over, and learned from. He had his future to protect now, and this was a tool to do it.

The book described, in essence, that it took meditation, and introspection, an analysis of the person in order to find ones animal form. Of course it didn't say that word for word. It took quite a bit of summarization to get that- what with a lot of the actual phrases and wording being written in Sirius's script, and some of the slightly more technical words being from his father. Sirius just wasn't the sort of person to be neat and orderly, and with his father's help, it only got slightly more legible and overall it tended to jump from one topic to another with little to no preamble.

But every page echoed laughter and their essence.

It was heartbreaking to read. He got to know them through the pages, like the time Prongs tried to turn into his buck form, and only succeeded in the antlers in the tale. Or Padfoot when he couldn't stand any kind of smell or sound due to his enhanced senses. Not to mention he most likely looked ridiculous with the dog nose and ears sticking out of his unruly nest of hair.

But, right- meditation. It took a lot of self-control and restraint that he thought he didn't have, but after trying, again and again he could feel himself relaxing. How could someone as spastic and lighthearted as Sirius accomplish it?

So instead he chose to think about his life. The people he hated- Malfoy, Snape, the Dursleys, Voldemort. The people he loved, his family, Hermione, Ron, Hagrid, Sirius, the rest of the Weasleys, Ginny. All the people that made living this miserable life worth living, make it a world he wanted to live in. Images would flash by, Ron and the slugs, Ginny and Tom's book, Dumbledore and Marvolo Gaunt's ring. The veil, court, Buckbeak, Norman. All of the good and the bad.

He could tell by his actions and the actions of others. He could tell things about himself. He had pride, he was loyal. He could be foolish, but thought with his heart. He had more problems than most, he was usually selfless. For all of the bad he had seen, he still believed in the good in others, and was still idealistic.

What animals were anything like that, not a dog like Sirius, not a cat, otter-no, something with fur.

His arms felt itchy.

Something soft, but powerful. Something regal.

He could feel bones creaking.

Something that could be dangerous, something with weapons.

Skin stretched.

He could feel it, he was on the verge of something, on the verge of uncovering his true self.

The uncomfortable itching, the feeling of cracking bones shifting, the morphing of limbs. All of it uncomfortable, but none of it overly painful. But he would be fine, even if it was. He was used to pain.

Somehow, over the course of it, he had stood, he didn't know when, all he could feel was the flow of the stagnant air. The flaring of nostrils as he scented dirty clothes dotting the floor like the white splotches on a fauns soft downy fur.

He knew he was positioned perfectly so that should he open his eyes, he would see himself in the slightly broken mirror on the wall across from him (It was broken when Dudley through a tantrum about his diet).

Weeks of practice, weeks of hard work, isolation, effort, all culminating in this moment. Standing straight, his spine cracked on last time, and he shivered in glee. The feeling was like no other, but for the slightly claustrophobic feeling, but for the longing to be in the trees, running on the grass, he felt the same. Slightly disoriented, feeling like life was something to be enjoyed, that things were much simpler.

There was nothing to be worried about other than predators, about getting food. No nightmares would be waiting for him when he would sleep, and every morning would be greeted with joy. But No. That was the animal in him speaking, the simplistic nature coming to the forefront of his mind. Humans were different, more complicated- but he wanted nothing more than to stay like this. He would be free.

But he couldn't.

He started to open his eyes, and when the slightest slit opened, he saw what he had expected. He was a buck, like his father. Proud, strong, tall. Eyes the deepest forest green, dappled with bits of gold like the sunlight glinting off morning dew. Antlers that almost reached the ceiling, sharp, pointed, weapons. In this form, he wasn't the weak Harry Potter, he could protect himself.

These thoughts passed in a fraction of a second.

That's when his eyes fully opened and the agony started.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**Don't own Harry Potter or Firebreather**

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Harry tried to scream. Where the other transformation had felt natural, this one felt like it was tearing his very body and soul apart.

While the transformation before had felt right, natural even, this one felt like one his body was trying to cross a bridge not meant for mortal men.

If anything, it definitely wasn't one mean to be started when you're a deer.

Rather than the painless melting and cracking of the animagus transformation, this one was likened more to being hit with a mortal truck. Or maybe a couple of bashings from the whomping willow. Either way, it felt like his bones were being broken with unimaginable force. Heat was gaining force in his stomach, it made him feel like he wanted to be sick. He could only freeze as his body betrayed him.

It started with his arms and legs. They buckled and bent, arms returning to long limbs, hooves to fingered hands, but his legs only became bipedal. Claws sprouted from the tips of his fingers, ridges along the sides of his arms and up his shoulders, even down his back. He could only lie there and bang his head against the floor in an attempt to distract himself from the pain, but he just couldn't, couldn't make it stop. His clawed hands dug gullies into the wood, every thrashing kick of his legs left abrasions, and scattered trash about the room. In front of him, something struck the mirror and it broke.

The shards rained down on him like glittering snow, he couldn't feel it.

The burning… THE BURNING- the FIRE. It wanted out.

Skin thickened, gained a dark reddish-purplish hue. Power echoed in the air, dark fire exhaling from his mouth in every frantic pained breath. His already unruly hair fluttered around his shoulders, black tresses fluttering in the different eddies created around his body due to the unnatural heat. Something to his left caught fire.

In an anguished scream, silent, he twisted into the flames, body twitching in pain. Not from the heat of the flames, but in a way how good it felt compared to the seemingly cool ground that surrounded him. It was everything else that was too cold, even the fire felt like it burned cold. It needed to be warmer, it needed to be hotter, molten, like lava. Anything else, and he felt like he would freeze and die. He could feel the power draining from him, the woosh as the curtains caught flame. Plastic melted, glass cracked and broke, wind rushed in, fanning the flames to an even higher height.

More fire blistered in his throat, and a full bodied roar exploded where all there had been the crickle crackle of burning, of destruction. Something worked its way through the wall of instincts protecting him from the outside world, and brought him to his senses.

"Bang BaNG, BANG"

Pounding on the door, heh, it echoed the pounding in his head.

Vaguely he could hear words… "Brat! Brat! What're you doing in there?!"

He could hear a yelp as the door knob rustled and turned.

And then footsteps. The door slammed, and the sound of the car engine starting, and it drove away. Then silence. And he mercifully passed out.

* * *

**Some Time Later**

* * *

Who knows how long later he woke up, it couldn't have been too long; the house was still burning around him. Here and there, he could hear the fire making the house collapse. The air rippled with heat. Breathing in the smoke, he realized he felt pretty good. For all of the pain earlier he thought that he would be a simmering pile of goo on the floor, but it seems that that isn't the case.

He tried to get up, but he kept falling back to the ground. His legs, something was up with his legs. This spur of panic managed to get him up, just for a second before he fell back to the ground with a groan. He felt like a fledgling unable to stand on his own two feet.

Something cracked, the walls and floor shook, and he decided it would be a good idea to get out of the soon to be condemned building.

Crawling he got over to the cracked and melted glass in front of him. Looking into it he could only see pieces of the whole. A golden eye here, the edge of a fanged mouth there, distorted by the unevenly melted surface.

"Breeerrrrrrrrr" a fire engine'salarm resounded outside, if he heard correctly, from a few streets away. It would undoubtedly be coming here.

He crawled towards the wall, trying to gain his footing, it felt all wrong like he wasn't meant to be standing on two legs, but as he got up, he felt them change to something similar to human legs. Normal ones, and he hurried to his feet, and limped towards the door. Grabbing the handle he found it pleasantly warm, but when he opened the door, it wouldn't budge.

They couldn't have. They wouldn't, would they? They wouldn't lock it from the outside knowing that he wouldn't be able to get out, they wouldn't leave him to die, and no matter how much they hated him, wouldn't they?

"THOSE BASTARDS!" He screamed hoarsely at the empty house, it came out like a roar. "How could they?!" He needed to punch something, to hit something, to get rid of that feeling of hopelessness and anger that he had been feeling much too often in the past months.

He punched the wall next to the door, it trembled. The door rattled in its sockets. Soot and crumbly insulation drifted down from the ceiling in amalgamated clumps. His eyes watered in irritation. It was in his throat, a couple of coughs later, he was breathing faintly face flush against the door, sweat seeping slowly from his hairline.

One last anger desperate anger punch later, had the door flying off its weakened hinges and hitting the wall in the hallway opposite. Moments later had him out of the house, sprinting awkwardly through the house where he spent the majority of his miserable childhood. Once he was a couple houses away, he turned to look back, there he watched as the roof collapsed as if in encore to the arriving police and firemen.

Flames spiraled into the night sky, only to fizzle out in the summer night air.

* * *

**One house collapse later:**

* * *

After the house had completely collapsed, he had snuck his way past the gawking neighbors, those in for fame, those who cried foul, "It was horrible! I wake up in the middle of the night to that horrid sight! There is no water anywhere, because of the drought, what if it had spread to my house?!"

Or "I bet it was that nasty Potter boy, he never did fit in with no one else. Never trusted him around my son, 'specially after what Petunia told me. Never turned my back on those shifty eyes. Wouldn't surprise me, officer if he staged this to steal the wealth right out from under their generous noses."

Harry shouldn't have been surprised, he knew the Dursley's spread lies about him throughout the community, but even so, he didn't expect people that he had never met to have so much against him.

But there was nothing he could do, it'd be better to just disappear, to go find Ron or Hermione, Lupin, someone who he knew could help with his present situation. Or Dumbledore. Anyone. Maybe Ms. Figg still lived by, and he could send for help through her.

He stuck to the shadows, he blended in with his new skin. As much as it freaked him out, it helped, and he didn't have time to dwell on it. A flash of color caught his eye, a man in robes walking down the street, glaring in disdain at those he passed.

Not good. They were after him, whether it was the ministry, or Voldemort. It was all the same. He really had to get going. Forsaking the safety of the dark alley, he full-out sprinted once the man had passed. He could feel Voldemort stirring in the back of his mind, and he knew someone much more powerful than either of them was coming, and he didn't want to be around innocents when he did.

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**Dedicated to the hazel-eyed bookworm**


	4. Chapter 4

**I do not own Harry Potter or Firebreather, no matter how much I may want to.**

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Somehow, with all his running and hiding, he had managed to avoid all of the muggles amalgamating into whispering groups around the area of his house.

Past the numerous fire engines, out of the cul-de-sac, and over a couple of fences. Once past that point, he had no idea where to go. His only instinct was to get away from the scene of the crime. He was in real trouble this time-but- then again, when wasn't he in _real_ trouble.

His whole life had been dealing with the shit life had thrown at him one after another. So, he'd have been more surprised at this point if anything went according to plan, or without a hitch.

Like that stupid plan to use the Sirius's gift. He had only wanted a backup plan, something to pull out of his metaphorical hat should shit hit the fan. And look how that went. He was up shit creek without a paddle.

Or more accurately, a freaky purple draconic long haired guy running half naked through the streets of Surrey. That would draw attention even in the wizarding world, but if he really thought about it, they seemed to be just the same as the muggle world in things that they don't understand. If they can't understand it, then it must be feared, hated or controlled, and if you cannot control it, then it must be destroyed. But that seemed to be just human nature, one of intolerance. But it really wasn't up to him to condemn others, not when he had made mistakes of his own.

There were people he could have saved, but was unable to, and their deaths would weigh heavy on his soul.

Shaking his head, he looked around, finding himself on the outskirts of living areas, a sparse forest lay before him. Trees were scattered haphazardly, as if some time ago, some giant had plucked bunches of trees from the group, leaving them scattered in unusual groups of two to three.

On the other side, came rustling as two other figures walked out from a shield of twisting branches, leaves drooping. Tawny hair billowed behind a face made of stone, eyes yellow pebbles in the creases of his face. They shone with determination, and confidence. Behind him stood two other people, one tall, lanky, and orange haired, face dotted by freckles, and eyeing the ground around him with scorn that masked a deep uneasiness. The last he was barely visible, even in the moonlit evening. The only thing he could see were dark small spheres of dark bleary blue.

His first instinct was to stay out of sight, so he dove out of view, plowing headfirst into a pile of leaves in a dry powdery ditch. Just out of sight of the wizards ahead of him. They hadn't seen him yet, though he could see their eyes roving from one side to the next, only to double back as if to catch a hasty movement. Every sway of a tree branch had their wands instantly focused on it- ready for trouble.

They stopped, and the Minister of Magic took up the head of the group, while the other man, hood hiding his face from sight, save for those … dead looking eyes, and took a rear position guarding the backs of the other two. They younger red head had a quill and book tucked into his side, satchel swaying a too and forth a bit before he steadied it with a slightly trembling hand. The other clutched a wand grip tightening so that even from this distance he could see the white knuckles standing out against the rest of the skin. The Minister brought out his wand, and the man from behind moved to the front, speaking silently, spell-words winding silently into the air. They continued this for a few minutes, every so often pointing in a different direction. Searching…. Searching?

The defensive position, the obvious nervousness, it just screamed that they were ready for a confrontation. Did they know what had happened to him?

Why else would they be so nervous?! He didn't even know what had happened to him! All that he did know, was that he was a lot more capable than he used to be.

Heh, he kind of accomplished what he was setting out to, in rather twisted and unwanted way.

Eyes turned his way.

_Okay. Okay, no reason to panic. Maybe they are just out taking a walk, just the Minister and his lackeys wandering out in a dark potentially dangerous forest- who am I kidding._

He was pretty sure that the only thing warranting the minister's attention, not to be arrogant, was most likely his earlier incident. He wasn't sure how they could have known, whether it be through the muggle news, or some kind of magical tracking spell. Hell, at this point it would be stranger if they hadn't noticed, and here he'd thought that they would've left him alone for bigger fish.

The Minister's wand glowed a bright white, pointing in his direction, while the other man's shimmered an ominous crimson.

They both talked, and then spoke quietly amongst themselves for a moment before a bit of an argument, and then finally after what seemed like hours, the Minister stepped forward.

"… Harry?" this was tentative, unsure.

Should he get away now, while he had the chance? He peered out of his hiding place in the ditch, eyes creeping up just above the line of dirt, only to find what seemed like death staring straight into his own. He froze. The man stared immobile and he could only wait until he announced his find to the group- but then his eyes moved on.

He slowly turned towards the Minister, freezing every time the man might eye him again, but he was safe.

"Harry, I- we know you are there." He paused, waiting for some kind of response head slightly turned towards his hiding place.

"I saw what happened to the muggle- your relative's house." Then he raised his voice a little, "I can help you. I can fix the house, erase everyone's memories! I can make it so that you can go back to your old life!"

There was no way that he would do that, would he? For free? There had to be a catch.

"I can even help with that monster that caused all of this mess! The man behind me? It's Walden Macnair, he works with the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures! He can find and kill any magical creature out there, even the one that is hunting you!"

Oh. That wasn't good. He wasn't being chased, as far as he knew, and for some reason he could tell, there was nothing chasing those than the group across from him (though something weird was happening on the left) so the other logical conclusion was….. that they didn't know that Harry Potter and that mysterious creature were one and the same.

"All it would take… is your help. The Ministry is fighting a losing battle, every day, we find out that more and more of us are on the other side.- but with you! Morale would rise! People would fight in your name! To know that they chosen one was on their side, that they were in the right! Winning would become a feasible goal- rather than some pipe-dream!"

He had to visibly calm himself, his eyes had garnered a bit of a crazed glint, and his arms had been gesticulating wildly, he looked as if he had been teetering on the edge of sanity, right and ready to take the plunge.

Harry knew that he couldn't afford to wait all night… and as time was passing, he noticed that they weren't going to leave anytime soon. He started to stand knees creaking a bit due to staying in the same position for so long.

And suddenly, there came a rustle off to his left, tree limbs willingly parting to reveal…

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Surprise! You'll have to wait until the next chapter!

BTW:

In OOTP, Walden Macnair actually got his eye poked by Neville with Hermione's wand, and was presumably captured and sent to Azkaban. Here, he was actually thought to be on the side of the Ministry during the battle, rather than the Death Eaters and was therefore exempt from a prison sentence. So, his presence in the chapter makes it a bit AU, but I couldn't resist putting him in.

Thanks for reading.

Have a nice day.


	5. Chapter 5

**I do not own Harry Potter or Firebreather . (Though I wish I did.)**

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A deer. That was anticlimactic. It bounded through the trees across the clearing, eyes wide, and whites showing in fear. It raced, legs churning for faster and faster movement until it ghosted out of sight.

The men dropped the tenseness of their bodies at the sight, their fear seeming rather ridiculous in hindsight.

But then a foot stepped into the clearing, followed by a clothed leg. White stood stark against the brownish green forest background, age showed around the normally twinkling eyes, age showing in every wrinkle like the rings within a tree. They were of such a number that the normally youthful Dumbledore looked like an old man, and every step was slow and measured as if it pained him.

Harry always knew that Dumbledore was old, but it wasn't often that he _really_ understood it. Dumbledore was an old man, if not in spirit, then in body. This night, he looked his century in age.

He walked slowly out, but a pale hand reached forward to place it reassuringly on the old wizard's shoulder when he stumbled a bit only to hastily tear away as if it had been burned by the contact.

He just knew who that belonged to.

Confirming his suspicions, out came the potion master, eyes as black as hair, and his hair as greasy as his heart. Eyes stuck in their perpetual glare, he eyed the others at the scene moodily and wearily, as if expecting violence, while the Dumbledore just straightened out of his weary slump and waved off his comrade's nervousness.

Snapes tensing caught his eye however, and Harry noticed that Snape was gritting his teeth while gripping his left arm. Hard. Dumbledore's eyes didn't show any expression for the slight widening of his eyes, and the darkening of his face. Shuffling into the clearing, he nodded to the Minister only to greet them with a quiet, "Mr. Scrimgeour, Mr. Macnair," here a pause, before, "Mr. Weasley… I believe your mother is quite worried about you."

This made Percy take on a slightly affronted look, "Look you madman! You have no right to speak to me about such things!" Scrimgeour moved his hand in front of Percy, "Percy. Stop. "He turned to Dumbledore and held out his hand to shake, "Dumbledore, it has been a while."

"It has, Rufus."

"I hear you're a wanted criminal Dumbledore? I would have never thought that you would be one."

"It would appear so, wouldn't it?" He let loose a chuckle.

Percy just couldn't seem to let it go, "You are a wanted criminal! Don't chuckle as if it is some joke to be brushed off! The Ministry is hunting for you this very second!"

Dumbledore turned to Percy, amusement in the lines of his face, "But, it appears that they have found me, have they not?" He said gesturing to the Minister and his entourage.

Percy blushed the same shade as his hair.

Dumbledore turned to the Minister, "So Rufus, if I may get to the point, you are here, because you noticed the disturbance with young Harry did you not?"

His eyes narrowed in on Dumbledore's face, "That is correct." Stiffly he continued, "And have you noticed the strange creature in his general presence?"

Dumbledore's face was somber once more, and he turned to Harry's hiding spot.

"Aaaahhhh that is much easier explained than you would expect…..Harry my boy."

His eyes focused on Harry,

"Please do come out."

Here Harry was skeptical of the Minister's reaction, as Dumbledore seemed to already know more than he did. But that wasn't anything new. But he trusted Dumbledore's judgment to keep him alive, if not more than his own judgment.

So, stowing his reservations he climbed slowly out of the ditch, eyes shifting from side to side watching the others around him. One foot in front of the other, until he stood in plain view.

"…Dumbledore, I can't see anything. Are you sure that there isn't just a problem with the location spells?"

"…No Rufus, it is just the lack of light. Harry, you can see us just fine can't you?"

"…Yeah." Since he was directly addressed he felt like he should speak. It was only one more step from stepping out.

Immediately Scrimgeour pulled out his wand and lit the tip. His eyes widened in the unflattering light.

Immediately Macnair started waving his wand, preparing to cast a spell.

Dumbledore turned and in an uncharacteristic show of anger, yelled, "STOP RIGHT NOW!"

This caught the other men off guard, and Percy was left staring dumbly at whatever creature stood before him. Dumbledore turned back to Harry, and beckoned forward.

"Harry, my boy. Let me see you." His voice betrayed his concern, and Harry was just as unsure as before. He felt skittish, that rather than standing there being ogled he should be running. That or attacking those that posed as a threat. He could already feel a growl hitching in his throat and his teeth baring in protest to the others actions.

The idea was so opposite of his normal state of mind that it boggled him. He had never had this reaction to other people before. This one was almost….animalistic. That coupled with the feeling that he would most likely be just as fine on four legs, as two, made him feel rather uncomfortable.

Harry could only imagine what they were seeing. A young man, monstrous in form. Bone-like horns coming out of the side of his head, teeth sharp and dangerous, with claws sticking out of the sides of his slightly scaly and purplish arms. Claws tipped his hands and his eyes were undoubtedly slit. He was taller than he was before, meaning his jeans ended above his ankles, and his shirt was almost completely shredded by two long spines along his back. Ridges stretched along his shoulders to his chest, with a long stretch along his spine. In the center of his chest was a dark green and slightly purplish gem, it sparked with inner fire.

That was what he knew physically, he could feel it. But he didn't know what he looked like. He felt like it would be pretty bad.

The Minister spoke, "Dumbledore…. What is that that thing?"

Harry was still tense, he could feel the killing intent from the Macnair guy. He was eyeing Harry as if he wanted to kill him for existing. Heck, he probably did.

"That, Mr. Minister, is your 'Chosen One' Harry Potter."

Eyes went wide. "By Jove, what… what happened to him?"

"He seems to have awoken some sort of heritage, through some kind of magical means. Tell me, Harry, have you done anything unusual lately?"

"Well… I might have maybe, tried to becomeanAnimagus?"The last part came out in a rush, as he was afraid of reprisal, but that more than anything seemed to calm the Minister down.

"Oh, so it's just a botched Animagus attempt? No big deal, you just have to reverse it. A little time at Saint Mungos and you are right as rain."

"Not so, Rufus. The Anigmagus transformation seemed to be a stimulant, and this seems to be more of a natural state."

Snape chose this moment to remind everyone of his presence. "So Potter, you have gone and ruined things again, haven't you? I'm not surprised, with you being as incompetent as you are. I guess the little freak looks like he is, hmmm? Much like your father."

Dumbledore looked at him disapprovingly, "Severus!"

Harry couldn't help it. He snapped.

"YOU BASTARD" as he lunged forward fire dripped from his jaws like blood, flowing out with the exhale of his shout. He lunged forward claws for the throat of his old professor, who could only stand there unprotected with wide eyes. They didn't show any fear however, and that was what saved his teachers life. Harry knew that if he tried to run, nothing would have stopped him from running after him and turning him into a bloody pile of flesh.

He looked with wide eyes at the slightly flushed man across from him, who seemed resigned to the claws lightly touching the thin skin across his jugular. And he was this close from killing someone out of hate. "You bastard." This was whispered.

Then suddenly a shout came from the side, attracting the attention of those gathered. A woman with crazy hair and mad eyes stood at the edge watching with amusement along with those of her companions. They wore cloaks of werewolf skin with masks etched out of bone. She let out a lazy grin and a green light shot of her wand in their direction, aiming for Dumbledore only to have it dodged as Severus threw Dumbledore to the side. This earned him a glare, which he readily ignored to fight with the other two she had arrived with.

At that she ran forward, battle scream tearing itself from her lips as she threw herself at the first person in her way, the Minister, and she stabbed her wand forward like a blade, grinning in satisfaction as it hit its mark in the Minister's side and dug in deep, drawing blood. There was a slight sheen around the wand, in the shape of an invisible blade, and it only became visible as she drew it out slick with blood, revealing a wicked stiletto surrounding her wand. She raised it to her lips licking the blood away, before removing the rest with a practiced flick of the wrist. Seeing the Minister drop to the ground, she ran at Percy, going for the kill.

Harry seeing this, couldn't stop the red haze from his eyes. Not another important person was going to die in front of him. Not when he could do something about it. Even as traitorous as the bratty man was, he was Ron's brother, and therefore family. So he dove forward grabbing Bellatrix Lestrange around the waist and throwing her and him over the ditch he was hiding in before.

He wondered if his wand was still in his back pocket, and if he time to check. Unlikely.

So until he got the chance to look, it seemed as if it was a hand to hand fight. With a roaring growl of challenge, he pushed the blades along his arm against her side, trying to gain some ground as she struggled beneath his newly muscled height. But she had experience and magic on her side, and she had quickly managed to squirm out from under him with a nicely timed kick to the groin, leaving him groaning in pain on the ground. He tried to stand up, but only found him facing her wand and apparent death.

Until he felt something in the distance.

It called to something in him, something that called for revenge and the spilling of blood. For revenge on the puny human that dared rise up against something like him.

Leaning back slightly to glare at the woman in front of him, he took a deep breath, and she smiled in anticipation. Then he breathed out, and happened wasn't what he was expecting. Flames a dark blood red came right at her face, baring flesh down the bone in her arms, with which she had tried to cover her face to no avail. She fell, screaming in flailing as the fire continued to burn without stop. As the acrid smell of burning flesh filled the air, blisters formed, and dark blood ran in what seemed like streams.

It wasn't enough.

Not when so much blood stained her dainty hands.

So he leaned forward till he was on all fours on the ground and felt his body shift. He was comfortable on all fours, teeth long and sharp, ready for biting and tearing, hair laying long against his back, gem studded against his chest and flames writhing around it. Spines ready to rend and cut. He was ready and able to kill. So without a thought, he leaped forward onto the screaming woman, and clawed and cut and bit until the meat bag under him didn't move anymore. He could only satisfy the anger that remained by breathing fire onto the remains until nothing was left.

Only then, did his ire leave.

And his humanity took the forefront once more.

_What… what the?_

Battles were still raging on around him, but he was still in shock. He had murdered someone. Brutally. With his teeth and claws and flames. Snape shot spells, while Dumbledore tried to heal the aggrieved Minister.

Macnair was nowhere to be seen, and the Death Eaters seemed to have gone up in number. Percy was with Dumbledore, and for all of his animosity earlier, seemed to be accepting help in saving the Minister's life.

But as the another Death Eater went down, the sound of thumping filled the air, and the sound of breaking trees echoed towards them rapidly. Fighting stopped, as those turned to face this new threat, always mindful of the enemies around them.

It was getting closer, THUMP THUMP… THUMP THUMP THUMP.

He could see the trees closest to him getting stopped by something. There were larger trees than were there… Oh.

He moved his gaze more skywards. There, standing on what he thought were aged tree trunks, was a creature of unimaginable proportions. It... kind of reminded himself of him. But bigger. And with slightly different coloring. And much scarier.

Dumbledore's voice reached them, clearly in the night, for all of the noise. "-Kaiju."

The large gold eye that seemed like the Sun at night turned to peer down at them, head tilted to the side to see them better. It stood and rose to full height, more humanoid in shape rather than the dragon-dog appearance.

"So, my son. You appear to have figured out more than your brother did on your own." The gravelly voice broke the shocked silence.

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Wooh. That took forever to write. Enjoy!


	6. Chapter 6

**I do not own Firebreather. Or Harry Potter, I wish I did.**

**Last chapter:**

**"So, my son. You appear to have figured out more than your brother has on your own." The gravelly voice broke the shocked silence.**

* * *

The few death eaters remaining raised their wands to the cry of "Avada Kedavra!" and with simultaneous motions they flung green light at the beast.

He treated their attacks like flies buzzing annoyingly around his face. No, even less than that, he didn't bother to move a muscle, just stood there regally as the lights came into contact with his scales.

The Death Eaters were shouting blood-thirstily, sure that their attacks would be the end of it- it never took more than one hit of the killing curse to kill.

Harry hated everything about it, the way someone with no effort could kill even the most powerful, all on a whim. The weak were given power, and he didn't mean weak physically. Even a weak person could be strong, it just took fortitude of will.

That's one of the things about magic. It gave bad people power that they shouldn't have, and there was almost no way to think of all of the things.

But he didn't want someone coming into the fight unprepared for the danger. And something told him that the creature was obviously sentient, even without the knowledge that he was able to talk.

He wasn't even going to focus on its words till he had to.

He lunged forwards, trying to warn the dragon "LOOK OUT!"

But it obviously wasn't necessary, as the lights only met the scales and melted into the dark color in a slight ripple of green light like the displacement of still water.

The dragon snorted, before turning a disdaining eye on its attackers. "Fools. You dare attack me?"

A spark of anger had ignited in his eye, and when his great maw opened to speak, fire could be seen swirling in the back.

The Death Eaters weren't shaking in their boots, but they were obviously unnerved. It was like they didn't know what to do now that their ace in the hole was rendered useless. One of them, his skull mask looked like a grinning skull, deciding to take the lead. With Bellatrix dead, there was no real reason to stay, and their Lord would most likely benefit more from the knowledge they could potentially bring rather than their deaths. He might spare them. Might.

And that was better than what was sure to be certain death at the hands of an unknown entity.

So 'Fight' was out. That leaves only flight. So 'Smiley' dove to the side as if sensing danger, shouting a slightly panicked "Stupefy!" at the creature, and he turned ready to apparate away.

Only, he found himself lifted unceremoniously lifted off the ground. Hundreds of feet in the air, he could still hear what must be dull to those around him. Their screams as they were slowly crushed in the hands of a giant, "Monster!" The sound of sizzling and popping flesh as he breathed fire onto his clenched hand, searing only the face as the rest was safe in his clenched fist. Save for the creaking and cracking of bone within its midst.

A savage grin came upon its face, lipless skin pulling up to reveal sharp teeth as tall as a man, and Harry could only stare as droplets of blood rained down like sparse rain.

A wet splatter fell on his face. He went to wipe it away, only to notice his hand. It was crusty, dry and sticky. Brownish splatter layered his skin, with wetter parts still blared a garish red. It was morbid, and he didn't know how he didn't smell it in the air.

He knelt slowly on the ground, and tried to wipe the blood on the dead and browning grass. It wouldn't come ignored the crash in the forest nearby and the sickening crunch of impact. He didn't look up, as he heard foot steps behind him, and a soft hand upon his shoulder.

"Harry. Harry." He didn't respond.

"Harry!" and Harry jerked his head so fast that he almost gave himself whiplash.

He was sure there was blood everywhere, he didn't even remember how he got it all over him, just that it was everywhere. And he was sure it wasn't his. But he wasn't ready to be a murderer, wasn't ready to be a killer. It was against everything that he had ever believed in and he wasn't ready for that. Not yet.

"My boy… you did what you had to, but do not dwell on it. It drives the truly just to madness. I have seen friends go down the wrong paths for that reason."

His face was sad, even a little teary. "Now…" he turned to the creature that stood silently across from them, watching the exchange with keen eyes that glowed eerily.

"Who might you be, kind sir?"

One large lip curled, "How kind of you to ask. It saves me the trouble of killing you. If you had been as irritating as your little friends, I would have had to eviscerate you for daring to attack me."

Dumbledore didn't even blink," Oh, I am glad that you didn't have to go the trouble."

Dumbledore seemed to be getting back to his normal tone. Up to this point, he had been grave, and his jovial demeanor had been absent. But it seemed it was on its return journey.

Another snort, and another jet of flame shot into the sky. "So you say. But still, what keeps me from destroying you on the spot, and taking back what is rightfully mine?"

"I might say that it would be more troublesome than it was worth. It would draw unwanted attention to you, and your kind."

"We are more than prepared for any kind of interference from you… wizards." Wizards sounded like something worse than it was, coming out of its mouth.

"For the most part. But we wizards are an adaptable sort, much more trouble than we're worth. And we don't often stray out of Britain, and the American brand are much more forgiving…. In a way. They care a bit less about differences, while we" here he looked a bit regretful, and shot a glance at Harry, "Seem to be a bit less forgiving."

"Hmm" the dragons tone was thoughtful.

The Minister stuck on the ground spoke up, "DUMBLEDORE! WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS…. THIS … CREATURE! OF THIS WHOLE SITUATION?!"

The dragon looked on with disinterest, and returned his penetrating gaze to Harry, who looked nervously from side to side at anything but Bellll…. Belock? Or the conspicuous corpse in the middle of the ground.

He saw Percy cowering beside the Minster trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. While at the same time supporting his side. To Snape returning from the outer edge of the forest, gritting his teeth and unconscious Death Eaters floating behind him.

At the sight of the giant creature, he didn't seem very surprised. But Harry knew he should have been able to hear all that went on while in his absence.

Snape noticed him watching, so he treated Harry to his usual sneer.

Huh, he never thought he would find it endearing how the man he hated so much always treated him the same.

"I tire of this tomfoolery. I have come for one reason and one reason only, and that is not to be in the presence of you foolish creatures."

Dumbldore agreed." I feel that I must tell you of what has brought us to this point, however. It might be in your best interest to know what you have become involved in."

Another snort, "I am more than able to counteract any measure on your part."

"I agree. But not all of you would be able to." A nod at Harry. The dragon's eyes contracted, seeing it as a threat.

"Fine. Tell me your story. After that, I want to finish this business."

"It all began many years earlier…"

All throughout the story Belloc didn't say a word, only listened with a face that portrayed extreme annoyance. At the end, he only said, "Is that so." A statement not a question.

"I thought you should know, as more than likely, at one point or another, you may find yourself encountering someone related to this."

"Pah. Should one of you wizards, or anyone, _ANYONE_ threaten my family, they will quickly find themselves wishing that they had never. Even. Been. Born. "It was velvety and soft, not a threat. A promise.

He turned to Harry, "Son, I think it is time we be going. Your mother was looking forward to your arrival.- And even I do not dare go against that woman's wishes."

Harry balked, "Son?! I had a father, and he was James Potter! My mother was Lily Evans! And they aren't alive anymore. This is bullocks!"

Dumbledore stepped forward, shadowed by Snape, who had finished dealing with the enemies, leaving them in crumpled heaps, "Harry-"

"Quiet." The dragon murmured. He leaned forward until his hand was just next to Harry, and motioned for him to stand on it. "Get on." The black haired boy hesitated, "Now."

He hesitantly moved forward until he was right next to the hand and lightly jumped upon the rough warm surface. He stumbled a bit, because, as soon as he landed it was in motion and it caught him by surprise.

He knew that before the change he would have ended up tipping over the edge and falling to his death.

But now he caught himself. Belloc brought him up till he was eye, to well, eye. Or body. And he could feel the rumble in the air as he spoke, and the smell of sulfur as he breathed.

"My son, you must be able to feel it." His voice was stern, but strangely soft and gentle.

"The bond that runs between us like spilt blood, dripping from me to you. I also feel it. We are bound at the soul. You look much like your mother in your human form. But I? You take after me in soul. Feel the fire that burns inside it, and trace it back to me. You can feel that I am right, even if you do not want to believe. I, Belloc, king of the Kaiju, am your father. Your mother is Margaret Rosenblatt. You have a brother, Duncan, my heir."

"A brother…?"

How could he have a family he never knew about?! He only knew about his mother and father through the words of others, and how could he do anything but believe them? Especially since his personal life is the same as written history.

So how was it possible that he had a family?! How?! If it was true, why had they not come for him earlier?!

He voiced his thoughts aloud, almost screaming with indignation. His 'father's' only response was to chuckle. "A spit-fire, much like your mother. Ahh, but it is not my place to explain. It is your mothers. It was her decision."

He still didn't want to believe it. But he could feel it inside, something about the creature in front of him called to him, and he felt he felt an answering reverberation within himself. The feeling that if he let the creature in front of him stake the claim that he was family, that he would never let Harry be alone, and the Harry would always be protected.

And it scared him.

No one had ever been like that to him, not even Sirius. Sirius offered no solutions to his problems, he was more of a listening ear. Someone to offer advice, and to come to in the case of an emergency. But never someone that he could call upon to protect him time after time. And when Sirius did… it killed him.

But this creature, this thing, would never fall in battle. Not when he was as massive and powerful as he was. And he was offering something that no one else ever did. Not Sirius. Not Dumbledore.

He was offering a way out. There was no way that he could not take it.

There was no way he was going to reject what was sure to be his only way out. So he grabbed onto the lifeline.

"I believe you." And the words felt true. Even if on the way out they were hollow. Somewhere, in more primal part of himself, they were.

That said, the dragon placed him on the ground, and turned away.

"Say your goodbyes." It was gruff, but an oddly kind gesture.

So Harry turned to Dumbledore and the rest and walked up to him.

Harry hesitated before speaking, "I took his offer."

Dumbledore nodded sagely, "I thought that you would, though in a way I suppose that I had hoped differently." He sighed. "Harry, my boy, I wish you the best. I would offer you some parting wisdom, but I do not know how applicable it would be where you are going." But he smiled wryly, "Watch out for those American wizards, they can be a bit strange. And their magic, is less, how should I say, fanciful. Less merciful, and more battle oriented. It might be an interesting change from what you know." The twinkle was back.

"Of course you would encourage learning."

"Of course my boy, you would never know when it should come in handy. And your mother is quite a wonderful battle mage."

His breathe caught a bit in his throat," So… its true?- What he said?"

"It is. But do not blame the Potter's or Ms. Rosenblatt too much, they meant well. And it was done out of love."

"Why didn't you tell me? It would have most likely saved me so much grief!"

"Harry, it might not make sense to you right now, but often, knowing changes the outcome of events, for the better or worse. And in this case, I don't think it would be for the better. – Now, it is time to be off. Say your goodbyes to the Minister, Mr. Weasley, and Severus."

He didn't. Save for a half-hearted, "Figure yourself out." To the traitorous Weasley. And turned to leave.

"Harry, you wont be able to leave this behind forever. Remember what I said about fate. It wont stay out of the way for long. As it is, this is just buying precious time."

He paused, "I know." And he did.

Then he was swept up in a strong hand and was whisked away into the wind.

* * *

**Ps. If you see any major errors, please tell me, they only cause me shame if left unchecked. Thank you. Have a nice day! :D**


	7. Chapter 7

The wind shredded against his lightly scaled cheeks, bring blood to the surface in a blush of dark red, visible even beneath the purple tinted skin. The ground dropped away, as strong wings beat through the air as steady as his heart beat. The 'thump 'thump' 'thump' and the hiss as the tough yet fragile wings sliced through the air like claws through soft flesh.

The trees looked like grass, and the humans and their houses became colonies on the ground. Bugs. They were everywhere, all relying on others to take the fall, to do the dirty work for them.

"Hey!- Where are we going?!"

No answer.

"HEY?!"

Several tries later, he was no closer to receiving a response than he was at the start. He even tried flaming the hand that was curled tightly around him, but loose enough to prevent crushing him to death. All that provoked was a squeeze and a reverberation through the heavy barrel chest. Like the fire that burned so hot wasn't worth anything more than a chuckle.

But to him, Harry guessed it wasn't anything more than that. Therefore, he had no other choice but to sit there jailed and be left alone to this thoughts.

Was it selfish of him to want to be happy? To be free of the burdens that society had thrown on his thin and drooping shoulders since infanthood?

It couldn't be wrong. Not since he had become the scapegoat for the ills of humanity. To face someone who is the epitome of the evils of their culture; to defeat that evil and cleanse them of the sins that they helped create. The hatred, and the love. They both worked together to create such a creature. But that's just it. No one was worth more than anyone else. And only fools thought otherwise. But humanity is foolish.

Every single creature on this planet- and most likely off it- is selfish. They all want something. Whether it be wealth, fame, power, to protect the ones they care about, or to live their lives unimpeded.

He was no different.

But that was something that was part of the nature of being alive. You couldn't exist or continue to live on without stepping on another's toes. Whether that was what would be their end, versus your own. Most people invariably chose themselves over others. But that was something to be expected. It was ingrained into their very consciousness, when all conscious thought fled, all that was left behind was instinct. Animals are just more true to it than most humans, hiding behind a thin veneer of morality and societal law.

"CCCRRRASH-SSSS HHHHH" The sound of a tsunamis being created under the sheer wind pressure of the monster's wings as he flew close to the surface of the water. A creature that could bend Mother Nature to its will? What hope would puny humans have against such power? When they still found themselves subservient to the whim of the earth.

Heh, how could they have ever thought to domineer over Gaia? The Earth was everything. It was through its benevolence that they could live peaceably and flourish. But she continued to be wrecked and destroyed through selfishness.

It all came back to that.

But it's alright to be selfish. It's fine to want to be happy. To wish for the simple lives of others; to wish that his problems were all someone else's. That he wasn't sitting in the hand of a giant humanoid dragon creature that resided over an entire species that claimed to be his father; who was taking him to see his real mother and brother that he never knew he had and away from his prophetic battle against a wizard that wanted to pull a Hitler and destroy all of the Muggles and the half-bloods in the world.

He could afford to take a little time to enjoy the scenery, as he wouldn't have any later. For now, it could be someone else's problem.

**~~~~~~~~~-What the heck is a line break anyway?-~~~~~~~**

Five hours.

That is how long they had been flying. Or, rather, his giant dragon 'dad' had been flying.

Even after so long, he still couldn't bring himself to believe that the creature was his father. He could believe that he somehow screwed up the animagus transformation so badly he got something that wasn't even human, he could even believe that he was somehow a relative on his mother or father's side. Maybe through marriage, and (hopefully) not through blood. Heck! Maybe it was because they were spiritually similar! But he didn't want to believe that the creature-Belloc- was his dad.

But he had come this far, and he had nowhere else to go back to now. Only the school, and even not that for much longer now that Dumbledore was forced to flee. A lot of the kids there didn't believe him anyway. Like Seamus. If they chose to live the rest of their short lives with their heads shoved up their asses, so be it.

But he didn't want to be there to see it. He would rather be anywhere but there. So… there you go. That's why he was here. He was buying his own life some time, and… and he couldn't pass up the opportunity to have a family that he had never in his life gotten the chance to have.

He just hoped it was worth giving up what he hated, but was familiar, for the unknown.

But if he thought realistically, it's not like he had much more to lose at this point, did he.

One Hour After That

Ground came into view on the horizon, sun blaring through the muted cloudy sky. The air was salty, and dolphins that he had managed to see frolicking before they had come closer, fled faster than any normal creature from a pack of sharks.

They crossed land, but before reaching anywhere, a blare of sirens echoed across the rocky shore that they crossed. The loud screech startled Harry from his perch on the palm of the large creature, where he had managed to fall into a light doze in order to get some rest.

It was hard to believe that all that had occurred- the animagus transformation, the Death Eater fight, the revelations about Belloc and his parents,- it all happened in a time period of under twenty four hours.

He was exhausted, and that was more of an understatement. Physically, he felt fine. It was like his body had inexhaustible energy, contrary to his limited stamina before. The fatigue was more mental. He had to take in so much in so short a time. All of it contrary to what he had always believed. He had…even killed someone.

He didn't regret killing her. Her specifically, she was a waste of air and space. But it was the loss of human life that he mourned. There was potential to be something different, something good, just like there was in anyone. She just chose to not live to her potential and that lead to her demise.

He just wished that the blood wasn't staining _his_ hands, and marring his conscience. He felt like that character from Muggle School, from that play…Shakespeare? He felt like he should be washing his hands, trying to get rid of the signs of his guilt long after they had faded out of existence.

He was always hurt by others, but this time it didn't just disfigure him physically (though any would be hard-pressed to triumph over the damage he managed to do to his own body) it also blackened his soul.

A helicopter came flying by, the chopper's blades strangely silent in the thunderous air. His father kept moving, but as they soared forward, he could see men using radios to contact each other. Within a half hour, jets that were more technologically advance than he had ever seen soared overhead.

They disappeared ahead of them, along to the sound of thunder, but when he glanced above and forward at the clouds slightly ahead of them, not a single thundercloud cluttered the sky.

Trees flew by, cities that stood thousands of meters tall, and swayed slightly from the wind pressure. As the crossed by, all of the people streamed into buildings and large metal sheets flew down the buildings, windows turned into mirrors of shiny metal that glowed in the glow of the rising sun.

Even the scales under his knees turned to a lighter hue, much less dark and bloody than those of the night before, but Belloc still looked as fearsome as ever. The light did nothing to dull the ferocity of his gleaming white fangs, and the spurts of flame that came from his nostrils with every breath.

They showed no signs of slowing down, and he wondered when they were going to stop. Everywhere they went, people showed no signs of being shocked, no signs of surprise, just the fear that came with something larger than you, a potential predator, being in the immediate area. As if it was something that occurred often and could be planned for, like a natural disaster.

Was something like this common in America? Were flying dragon monsters the norm?- If so, why wasn't it more heard of in Britain, you would think that something like this, if it was known to the muggles here, would also be a big deal to those in the UK.

He supposed that it might be because either the wizards were controlling the knowledge, or the muggles were, or that even because the muggles are interested in it, it would be against the interest o f wizards to be interested as well, because to many wizards, muggle politics and modern day news were something to be ignored. It could never potentially affect them, and was inferior to the might of wizardry.

If that was true, this arrogance could lead to serious problems in the future. But it wasn't his problem right now, he was focusing on his own life and his own problems for a change.

He turned his gaze back to the horizon, it seemed that they would be traveling for quite a while longer.

-Arizona-

He never knew that the US was so large, it felt like they had crossed several different biomes over the course of the last few hours.

This one however took his breath away. Red sand milled through the air, and dunes sifted and repositioned themselves. Rocky crags painted the background, lifting their sparsely grassed peaks to the bright blue sky. Not a cloud was in sight, and there was no grass. No water, it was hot and dry, and the air wavered in the heat; distorted.

A helicopter pulled up beside his father (it was just easier to call him that, rather than his "father-not-father" or that "big fire breathing dragon guy" especially since he was still so confused on the topic) and a guy with weird white hair pulled up along side the head.

He had a blow horn. And seemed to know how to and enjoy using it to its fullest extent.

"BIG FIREBREATHING LIZARD! YOU ARE VIOLATING AIR SPACE AND TREATY AGREEMENTS! LAND NOW SO WE CAN HAUL YOUR STINKING ASS BACK TO PRISON! IF YOU DON'T, I'LL BE FORCED TO KICK YOUR ASS BACK TO KINGDOM COME. "He paused, and a thoughtful look crossed his stern face, "YOU KNOW WHAT? KEEP DOING WHAT YOU ARE DOING, I WANT TO KICK YOUR ASS!"

Belloc just ignored him and dove out of the sky right for the desert floor. Harry was totally unprepared for him to breathe a stream of fire at it, and entirely didn't expect it to open up and the darkness swallow him whole.

All he heard behind him was, "YOU COME BACK HERE! WHAT AM I GOING TO TELL MARGARET, HUH?!"

The darkness was all encompassing.


	8. Chapter 8

**He had a blow horn. And seemed to know how to and enjoy using it to its fullest extent.**

"**BIG FIREBREATHING LIZARD! YOU ARE VIOLATING AIR SPACE AND TREATY AGREEMENTS! LAND NOW SO WE CAN HAUL YOUR STINKING ASS BACK TO PRISON! IF YOU DON'T, I'LL BE FORCED TO KICK YOUR ASS BACK TO KINGDOM COME. "He paused, and a thoughtful look crossed his stern face, "YOU KNOW WHAT? KEEP DOING WHAT YOU ARE DOING, I WANT TO KICK YOUR ASS!"**

**Belloc just ignored him and dove out of the sky right for the desert floor. Harry was totally unprepared for him to breathe a stream of fire at it, and entirely didn't expect it to open up and the darkness swallow him whole.**

**All he heard behind him was, "YOU COME BACK HERE! WHAT AM I GOING TO TELL MARGARET, HUH?!"**

**The darkness was all encompassing.**

"

**I do not own firebreather.**

* * *

In case anyone was wondering about when in the story of Firebreather and Harry Potter this takes place in, it takes place after Order of the Pheonix, but before Half Blood Prince. And in Firebreather, it takes place after the party, but before Homecoming.

I had a LONG debate with The Hazel-eyed Bookworm about whether this timeline worked out with the Harry Potter-verse, including when dates about when prom usually occurs, time skips and what not; so hopefully it works out and makes sense.

In other news, both of my neighbors who are like grandparents to me, having no children or grandchildren of their own (and I not having any grandparents) were admitted to the Hospital on Christmas Eve and Christmas. The Grandfather first, and when we went to get him discharged on Christmas, we had to admit his wife. So, there we all were at the hospital, them severely dehydrated and with 100+ fevers, on Christmas. And the husband was diagnosed with mild dementia.

Great.

Plus, I am sick now too. *Sigh*

Ah…whatever. They are on the mend, and I have a chapter to write. So, here you go.

Enjoy.

(That was a bit of a note from when I wrote the chapter, so from the me of the now, Enjoy.)

* * *

This is what I have so far... I was having major writer's block, but I think I have fixed it.

Prepare yourself for a change in POV.

Duncan was used to being the underdog, climbing from the bottom to the top, or in his case, to the realm of the not-so-nerdy. There were just some things that came with being in the realm of the scaled and orange skinned.

So the day of school that changed that was just like any other; the sun rained down heat and UV rays that felt heavenly on his skin. The bright light showed the waves of heated air undulating over the sun-bleached grass and sifting sandy dirt.

He just wanted to sit down, take his shirt off and let the heat sink in.

A shrill screech made him wince.

No such luck.

He had to scramble forward almost knocking some more lazily inclined students over as he sprinted to get into the school on time. He could hear their unhappy mutterings as he kept moving.

He couldn't afford to be late on his first day, not when he had promised his mother that he would be on his best behavior.

He pulled his jacket up, even though he knew he'd be looked at weird for wearing such a heavy jacket in this heat, but he knew his skin would be even stranger than any kind of habit of his. Plus, it was fall, and he could always say that he came from a hotter state than Arizona, like maybe Texas or something. Or out of country. Yeah, he'd always wanted to travel.

But even more than that, he wanted to disappear as the whispers finally started around him as he strolled by the assorted cliques and groupies in the hallway. He could just feel the rumors circulating, the jeers coming together like 1+1 in the heads of those football idiots on the right. He also knew that while they might be trying their hardest, they might as well pull out their fishing poles, because dimwits like them are only going to get fish.

Really, half the time the stupid jocks can barely come up with anything clever. Just things like "Doofus" or "Cream sickle", "Orangie"- _I mean Orangie?_ That is just plain stupid. And the only ones who managed to come up with something truly hurtful were the ones-

"HEY SPRAY-ON TAN!"

Like he hadn't heard that one before. But –hey- it was on the higher end tier of insults that he had heard before. Maybe he could expect something from these guys.

Turning around that thought went right out the window. _Mayyyybe not._

Brawny, muscled and undoubtedly handsome, they were the crème de la crème – when it came to football. But he could tell, whether it was the red letter F on a crumpled paper sticking out of the top of lead goon's bag, or slightly torn up and blood smeared knuckles, that he was not at the top of the pecking order when it came to academics.

Therefore, someone to stay away from, as the Neanderthal types tended to be rather unforgiving to those with differences. And he was DIFFERENT.

Which was something he hated about himself, all the secrets, all of the fear, the hiding, pain… all because of everyone else being afraid of him. Which made him afraid of everyone else. He just felt alone sometimes, that he had no one on HIS side.

Everyone had their own side to play for, Barnes, Belloc, even his own Mom! They wanted to choose for him, make them do what they wanted, have them be like them, or make him safe.

The last one was sort of okay, and a normal kind of thing for a parent to do- but it just wasn't HIM.

Everyone was vying and jockeying for his attention and loyalty, and he didn't want some kind of political maze, he wanted a normal, happy life.

Then a splayed hand made him stumble forward.

_At least these jerks never change._

If there was one good thing about the bullying, it was that it was a constant force in his life. Never changing, he hated it, but it presented some kind of normality in his life. Even if it made him get in trouble and regret making the promise to his mother that he would not pummel the argumentative meathead into the ground until his face was bloody and unrecognizable.

Deep breaths now, Duncan. No need to go apeshit crazy on some unsuspecting teenage McDonald's employees to be. That would just cement him further into the den of crazy transfer student-dom. He just wished that when his mother made him promise things like that, she would take into account how rather than him finding trouble as she assumed, it was more often that trouble came running at him from an incline where he could only stare as it ran fist first into him.

Rather like right now.

"Hey, little loser boy. I was talking to you."

Duncan only took a deep breathe before turning around with a sigh. And looked up into the face of the bully.

"Loser, I'm talking to you. Don't got anything to say?"

Stupid jock.

"What'd ya say geek?!"

_Ahhhh….. I might have said that out loud. Not good._

A whisper off to the side, -"Woah, the orange freak's only been here five seconds, and he already pissed off Troy…"

Oh, so he was the head hancho at this school huh? Not very intimidating, even with all of his lackeys. And why did they always focus on the skin?!

He leaned forward until his brown hair dangled into my face and his hand was roughly gripping the collar of my shirt as he roughly threw me into the wall. Wow anger issues.

"I said, Geek, What. Did. You. Say?"

_Not good for him._

"I _said_, because obviously you can't hear right you Neanderthal, and I quote 'Stupid Jock.' Now, if you'd be so kind as to let me go, I can't be late for class on the first day, and you are trying your best to make me late. Geeze, I've only been here like five minutes and they set the dummy squad on me"

He walked off, leaving a hoard of dumbfounded gazes behind him.

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**Hope you enjoyed the chapter. **

**XD**

**Review if you want :P**


	9. Chapter 9

**Welp. I am a failure of an author. This is the first time I have touched this story in a while. So, sorry to all those who are interested in it. I have a couple of chapters for you soon. So, sorry for being a procrastinating ass, and here ya go.**

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**Chapter 9**

**"He walked off, leaving a hoard of dumbfounded gazes behind him."**

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**15 Days or So Later - Kenny Roger's House, Unknown Location:**

* * *

He was feet away from Kenny's house…. And it left a lot to be desired. Not that he was judging or anything-because he totally wasn't the kind of guy to do something like that; but still…. It looked a bit neglected.

How he was lucky enough to find this dump *cough* place in the middle of the Arizona dessert was beyond him. He just knew the general direction, and he had gone from there. It was really hot, but felt nice, and there was just a bit of a breeze for him to survive the walk. There was a weird looking bird circling above where he woke up though-were the buzzards making a move?

But hell. Did he even have the right to go in there and ask for help from some guy he had known for less than a couple weeks? Did he have the right to burden him with his own problems… when it was becoming oh, so, obvious that he had his own to deal with? Duncan didn't want to, and he wasn't even sure if he would help, not after what was circulating around the whole school by now.

How the freaky orange kid had gotten eaten by the giant fire breathing dragon-monster.

Kids ate that kind of crap up, he'd be lucky if the entire county hadn't heard it by lunch today. One glance at the sky later- hell. It was well past noon, they already knew everything.

So there was no point in delaying the inevitable.

Walking up to the door, he took a deep breath and put his hand up to the door and knocked. Someone was on the other side in a second, tugging it open. He had to weirdly hold in the knee-jerk reaction to tear the door off his hinges. It was strange, because it was harder to ignore than ever before. It was like his instincts, which had been in the back of his mind, had suddenly stomped their way to the front of his mind.

Or close to the front anyway.

"Ken!" He hissed "It's me, Duncan."

He heard a muffled, "Duncan-"

In a second he had his hand back on the door handle, he felt like he needed to warn his friend against what he had already most likely heard. His obvious change in appearance. And then there was the strange fact that he was walking around naked, save for a pair of pants.

"Before you open the door, you need to know, I look weird."

"Yeah, I know" How would he know about his change in appearance?

"I mean weirder than before…compared to this I used to look great; So, brace yourself."

The door slowly creaked open, he didn't say a word.

"Okay….You want a soda?"

Duncan followed him inside, amazed that he wasn't freaking out.

"So… you're not freaked out?" He was sure his surprise showed on his face, just a little bit.

"Not really." How could he possibly be not freaked out?- because if Duncan was a normal teenager, he would definitely be freaking out.

Ken turned the TV on, and it totally wasn't what he was expecting. But it should have been. His Dad's face was plastered across the small screen.

Oh. He should have expected this, but he had only considered the normal high school gossip grapevine. But his personal life would definitely be newsworthy. Even if the people who knew that it was his personal life could be counted on the fingers of one clawed scaly hand. Plus or minus one. Or a couple if you counted all the people under Barnes.

"Compared to that, you're honestly not that shocking." He kind of felt a bit offended, so what if the kaiju levels were red, the kaiju was his father! But it was a stupid feeling, and he quickly squashed it. It was probably a pride thing.

Plus, as soon as Ken started talking about his deep, personal connection with Isabel, he decided to drop the subject. Especially when he just dumped the cereal and it's bowl out the window like he did that every day.

The last day-night-whatever had been the weirdest he had had in a long time, with him waking unconscious and barely clothed in a desert and all, along with the fact that he would think he was hallucinating but for the jarring skin change.

Looking around the interior of the trailer, he felt a bit badly for bothering him… he knew Ken didn't have many friends, and it was obvious he didn't have much of a parental figure either. They talked about his dad, and Ken told him about his theory. Honestly… it was sad. He didn't know about all the evidence he had, but it really seemed like he was making the story up to feel better about what he would otherwise think of as being neglected.

He really didn't want to burst his big imaginative bubble; He didn't deserve that. So he humored him. Maybe, he would invite him over to his house, once everything calmed down. It was something that he, with all of his screwed up family life, had never had to deal with, and he was grateful for that.

Then the questions about the party started, and what he thought was, if he was right, jealousy and more than a bit of anger sparked in his eyes. He was definitely mad at him! But why? Oh, jealousy, right. That meant that he had a thing for Isabel? She was the only person of the opposite sex in the equation, so must be.

Time to backtrack. Fast. Friend or not, it was not a good idea to have one of the few people that knew his secret to be angry with him.

The phone rang, grating upon his eardrums, and Ken rushed forward to grab it. He couldn't help but wince when he saw that the excitement was all for someone who might never call. But he gratefully took the phone, and groaned.

How in the heck did they always know where he was, even if he had no gosh-darned idea?! So he had to say all the "yes ma'am's" and "no ma'am's" and try to get himself out of the hole that his god-damned father had gotten him into.

* * *

**Harry's POV- Day Before**

* * *

Harry was getting kind of tired of spending all of his time underground. Sure, he didn't have to worry about all kinds of weirdos staring at him, but at the same time, large violent monsters weren't exactly the best company.

He wanted what he was promised. At this rate, if he hadn't had his unfortunate accident he would've been a week or two his semester at Hogwarts. He could've been learning things to keep him alive! Here he was learning not to step on giant monster's metaphysical toes, and working on keeping himself from expiring of boredom. He amused himself by bouncing crystals off each other, and listening to the sharp clear 'ting'.

He'd tried magic on the crystals, but they didn't really do much but glow, and absorb it. Not that he could really do much, his wand, when he had found it in his pants leg (the pocket no longer existed), it was rather singed, and more than a little bent. He swore it was cross with him.

But irritable wand aside, his father came to him one day, and told him that his brother would be coming down. He was excited, nervous, and everything in between, but Belloc's next words drowned that perfectly.

"He doesn't know about you yet."

"Oh."

"So stay hidden, I have a plan, and it is necessary that he not know."

"Duncan-" right, his name was Duncan. A rather strange name, but _Americans_ were all rather strange as it was.

"Will be arriving with me in a few hours' time. When that happens, I want you to stay back, and watch. He isn't to the point, physically that you are, and this will speed him up."

"I thought I was supposed to see my mother and that you did'nt want to go against her wishes?!"

"Ahhh… She will see you. Just not now. I never told her WHEN I would be going to get you." And then he heard a muttered "She'll kill me as it is."

* * *

**My apologies to The hazel-eyed bookworm. **

**Life sucks and sadly FF had to be put on the back-burner. I used to have days off with neither work nor school, but that changed, and I am lucky to get any sleep with the nuisance that is homework. So...please don't hate me XF.**


	10. Chapter 10

I Don't own anything.

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Harry stuck to the shadows, as not long later he sensed his father growing closer, heard the rumble of his growling breathes and the minor earthquakes of his consistent heavy steps.

He could hear the commotion of the various assembled Kaiju citizens;Very few showed themselves, many kept indistinguishable in the shadows save for their glowing eyes in a myriad of colors. They shone like variegated stars in the dark.

So he remained behind with the majority of the Kaiju- those who counted as the small, the weak, and the unimportant. The multitude; rather than the select important few that went ahead. The ones who slithered after his father were the ones he was more familiar with. One with many eyes in a beehive-like face and mandible teeth. He was sure if Ron got an eye of him, he'd be spamming spells all over the place, combined with screaming and running the opposite direction. Not that he'd blame him, if he hadn't been "equipped" as he was, he'd be running just as fast in the opposite direction of the beauty queen. As if sensing his thoughts as he crawled on by, he let a rotund armored shoulder slam into him, and he flew off his spot to land on the ground twenty metres below.

Of course he landed as he should. On his back, breath knocked out of him.

What did you expect? For all of his awesome reflexes, he hadn't had them for all that long, and he wasn't a cat. And while the impact didn't hurt, it was surprising. So the abomination continued forward, and from his uncomfortable position on the floor -he swore that he could feel some pretty nasty things on it, it wasn't like the Kaiju had bathrooms… did they? Did they even have to… you know? But nasty thought or not, it was going to have to remain a mystery, as there was absolutely no way, no matter how curious he might be, that he was going to have that kind of conversation with his father. But never mind that- he could hear the small Kaiju whispering, almost creepily chanting, "king, King, KING!" a chant that continued in the background and a softer "Prince, prince," and then he swore they took their eyes off his father, and turned them towards him, glowing bulbs slit and changed the chant by a single consonant, "Princes!"

He did really not want to be near that, so eyes forward on the creatures, but making sure to keep track of the light level around him, he backed away so he would be FAR away from the creepy things. He couldn't help a shudder that ran through him as their eyes followed his movements. Not to mention that Gomorrodon kept getting under his feet, with all of the large Kaiju around.

"THIS IS DUNCAN, MY HEIR."

And suddenly their attention wasn't on him anymore, and he was fine with that. But it drew his attention as well.

The words themselves were shocking, but were not that unexpected. He had little knowledge of the world he now found himself in, and only the greedy or the foolish (of which he liked to think he was neither) walked into a position of power blind.

So he was grateful that for all of his father's interest in his life and well-being up to this point (very little, mind you) he appreciated the opportunity to be part of another interesting and very frightening culture without risk of death from nowhere. While he was sure there would be just as many reasons for people to kill him now as ever, it was also obvious that he had much less people to worry about attacking him. For while the Kaiju were almost innumerable, the wizarding community was undoubtedly much larger. So it would most likely be easier to pinpoint any threats, rather than worrying about any stranger off the street. He also liked that no one was really expecting something from him-save for being the son. They didn't want him to be king, and there was no way he would take any position of power, unless he was ready for it, or wanted it. And he didn't see that happening any time in the future.

He climbed up to the top of the rock in leaps in bounds, conveniently stepping the heads of a few jerky monsters as he climbed to the top. Leaning up over the edge, only to see his father and some of the subjects mentioned earlier circled around a pit of simmering lava. The light from the lava made strange shadows, and he could just barely hear the sizzling and occasional pop of the molten earth. Clenched tightly, but seemingly loose enough to prevent damage, was his… brother.

He definitely wasn't what Harry was expecting, with his blonde hair and sharp features. He looked Harry's age, which he hadn't expected. His father had never told him how close they were in age, but he hadn't expected to be so close. His hair was styled in a rather strange shape, he had an overall straight nose. Harry supposed he wasn't bad looking, but then again, taking a look at himself once more, he decided that he wasn't one to judge. In fact, on the sliding scale of anthromorphism, he was definitely closer to human on the more human side than Harry, which he was more than a little jealous of. He wasn't sure if he would ever look that human again, save for some kind of glamour. He shook the uncomfortable thoughts out of his head and focused on his brother.

He was rather gangly, and if he was judging correctly… which he thought he was, the look on his brother's face seemed to be pretty even cut between enraged… and nervous. But he thought from somewhere he caught an undercurrent of fear.

His eyes though, he thought he might have seen them before, and then he realized. That shade of ochre, he had seen it before reflected off the crystal, and in larger size on his father's face. There was no doubt that the boy there was his brother.

He watched his father has his ferocious grin widened, and he opened his hand dropping his brother into the roiling lava below.

* * *

Duncan's P.O.V. (i.e. Falling to his death in a pit of lava)

* * *

OH DANG, OH NUTS, CRAP, CRAP, CRAPCRAPCRAPCRAP.

Okay, okay. Calm down. When falling to your death, it is important to look for ways out of it, kids.

…

…

Okay, he had nothing.

He was so screwed. Thanks Dad. Thanks a lot, He hadn't even gotten to as Kenna out. WTH. He was going to die, young, freaky, and surrounded by giant monsters that were thousands of years old, ready to grab his crumbling corpse out of the lava and eat it. Great.

He was going to leave behind his new and most likely his only friends, that old fuddy-duddy Barnes, and his mom. Maybe he had time to tell his write his last will and testament before he hi-

Too late.

Hitting the lava wasn't as painful as he expected it to be, rather it wasn't painful at all. It felt more like doing a belly flop into a hot tub from a moderate height. Maybe at most ten feet. Which he knew it definitely wasn't considering that he was on a giant hand what was most likely at least seventy five feet in the air.

He didn't feel anything at first, and then it _really _started to burn.

* * *

HARRY P.O.V.

* * *

It had been several minutes since his father had dropped Duncan into the lava. All he could hear was the steady breathes of himself and those around him, and the increasing aggression on his part.

But he could only try to calm himself with the knowledge that his father wouldn't kill his heir. He had just announced it, there was no way that he could have changed his mind so fast.

But not long after, he could hear a soft rumble, and a muffled growl. The lava started to bubble, lapping up over the crusty edge. His father was speaking,

"The birthplace of our people. We came from it, and we all return to it, and it powers our bodies. So long as the Earth stays living, we will be on it, long past the others are rent on our claws and dead of frailty and old age. We were the first, and we will be the last. And my son will rule our clan. "Growls resounded in the cave, some approving, many in objection.

The rumbling ceased and then lava splattered across the cave.

His brother looked very different; his skin previously a light orange color, had gotten darker and strange indentations he'd come forth on his chest circled around a gem that was very similar to the one on his own, only the color was different. What he had in obvious weapons, blades, his brother lacked any visible weapons, but that became redundant as his brother immediately turned his face ceiling-wards, and let out a breathe of fire that let off heat that he could feel across the room. It lit the cave in it's entirety and he thought that it was close to-no, matched his father's flame in strength. It could flay the skin off bones and kill in seconds.

The aggression in the voice called for him to follow, it felt the answering call in his blood. The need to shred flesh and lap up spilt blood. To massacre and murder, to be the dominant species. But it was shook off, he wasn't a monster.

Behind him however, he could hear the scramble and scratches of claws and the shrill screams of a few dying creatures. The soft tearing of flesh and the occasional drip drop of spilt blood. The iron tang filled the air, with the sulfurous flavor and it became obvious that this place was Hell_. _The demons,_ "__and throw them into the fiery furnace, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth."_ He knew of the bible, having been with religious fanatics and their intolerance over the years, so he had at least a basic understanding of some of the passages, and he couldn't help how this one came to mind.

His brother faltered however, and he wasn't prepared for when out of nowhere he heard a whistle as something flew at colossal speed through the air. He ran forward, he could feel the destination, he felt that there was danger.

So, in direct opposition to the orders his father gave him earlier, he sped forward, going on all fours. He jumped off different bulges of rock, he had to be there, had to get there faster, he had to make it.

He pushed his brother out of the way and milliseconds later, giant blades dug into the ground at where he had been standing so shortly before.

His brother rumbled under him, and roughly pushed him off. He hadn't expect it, and quickly returned to bipedal form and stood up away. Duncan also stood, but it was slow, jerky and when he looked into his brother's eyes, what he saw wasn't what he expected.

They were slit, and his lips were creeping back into a grin. He knew that feeling, instincts to protect himself had activated. The urge to kill, and taste blood.

Bloodlust.

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Hi.


	11. Chapter 11

**It's been such a long time, here is the tail end of the last chapter.**

* * *

They were slit, and his lips were creeping back into a grin. He knew that feeling, instincts to protect himself had activated. The urge to kill, and taste blood.

Bloodlust.

* * *

Oh gosh-sorry this isn't a long chapter. But enjoy XD. Time passes so fast, *looks back into the past nostalgically- way back when I posted the last chapter.*

* * *

Harry knew what it was like when you were controlled by instinct and blood lust, it was much like when he first went on four legs for the first time. When he had gone and done… something that he didn't exactly remember clearly, but he didn't regret either.

He thought of it from time to time, and he often thought that it made him less human… but then again, wizards didn't exactly classify as human either. Which is why they were hunted and vilified by humans for the most of history. And some of the things people could do…. Was monstrous in and of itself. So, so what if he wasn't human, he was alright with that.

But he didn't want his brother to have to deal with that kind of conflict, one that made him question his very existence. He did that too much as it was, so when his brother's eyes narrowed, he decided it might be better to stop him before he did something he might regret. Something like…. Murdering the brother he had no idea existed.

What he didn't expect however, was that his brother's new appearance came with a giant boost in speed and power. Which he really should have. So rather than being intelligent, he was totally unprepared for the swift uppercut sent his way. He tried to roll with the blow, but he wasn't able to fully negate the hit, and ended up flying through the air to hit a rock mound nearby.

Ouch, the rock even cracked with the force of his landing. One of the stupid monsters nearby had the nerve to laugh, and he glared it's way.

It was a bad idea to get distracted, what with a fratricidal brother coming his way-the only thing he could do was dodge to the side as Duncan slammed his fist- THIS TIME ON FIRE- into the crystal spattered rock. Of course it shattered like glass.

"Oh bloody-"

and he had to dodge hit after hit, a right hook, skimming right past his nose. Kidney shot right on target, and he could only do his best to deflect with his blades. It turns out his brother's fists are as hard as his bladed arms, they received little to no injury from the keen edge that he could see. Or his brother didn't have the presence of mind to react to pain. Which wasn't good either. While he had the edge on speed and overall offensive power, due to the fact that Duncan only had concussive force, while he had actual weapons, Duncan somehow had the edge on experience. For all of the practice he had been putting fighting the other Kaiju, and getting advice from Dear Old Dad, he lacked fighting experience. Wizards fought ranged, and very rarely, melee, and sadly, that was not one aspect that he had ever delved into. He was like most wizards like that. So, he lacked quite a bit of experience in physical pain, and was doubly unused to how his still-new body moved. If anything, compared to his brother's smooth and flowing strikes, his looked clumsy in comparison- even while they were infinitely better than any normal untrained human.

So, despite his advantage in power he was unable to provide any real defense against Duncan. Plus, he didn't want to cause any real harm to his brother, while his opponent didn't share his reservations. So it seemed that they were doomed to a kind of battle purgatory, where no one was able to do any real damage.

A quick glance to his father proved that he wasn't eager to stop the fight, and a lot of the Kaiju were watching with interested and blood thirsty expressions. He swore that they were even taking bets.

"I call the bladed-one, he would slice the throat of the prince"

"Ssstupid, it makesss no sssensse to bet against the firebreather"

Firebreather?-

Oh bollocks.

"Bollocks."

So he had no choice but to raise his arms in front of himself to shield his face and take the full force of the blast. It felt like it went on forever, but when the smoke died down, and the fire flickered away he was still standing.

Sadly, all of the clothes he was wearing on the upper half of his body, tattered as they were, were burned completely away by the fire. Their ashes rested on his shoulders, and the occasional smoldering piece of cloth flitted its way to the floor.

He looked to his brother who was breathing rather raggedly, with smoke and steam rising from his mouth. His hair was disheveled and his shoulders rose with each breath. He could still see flames flickering past his lips though, so he was still ready to go.

At this point, he didn't exactly know what to do. He could try to talk him out of trying to kill him, but he wasn't sure how effective that would be in that state of mind. It was kind of like being unconscious. Or…. He could try to knock him out. That seemed to be the more feasible option. Hopefully his brother wouldn't put up too much more of a fight. Or remembered the whole altercation at all, it definitely wouldn't look in his favour.

He leaned forward onto four legs, feeling the practiced motion as his body moved to better navigate the terrain. He growled, deep in his throat, feeling more aggressive. A whisper grated on his sharp hearing, and he bounded forward an echoing throaty rumble aimed towards the rude creature. He was vindicated by a submissive whimper and something akin to a laugh from his father's maw.

So he bolted ahead, tackling the blonde into the ground, impact making his head hit the ground with a resounding CRACK! He changed to bipedal movement, and brought his fists down on his head one after another, trying to break past the other hybrids guard of his arms.

He was distracted by a familiar noise, however. A quiet little 'hoot'. Every single being stopped moving, their eyes automatically zoning in on the small creature. It was up in a petrified tree, white feathers ruffling, small scroll attached to its leg. Seeing that it had its friend's attention, it let out another gleeful and happy hoot, like a small childish squeal.

Hedwig?...Hedwig!

"Hedwig! Don't come over here! It's not safe!"

That distraction was all he needed, and the less intelligent Kaiju went straight for his friend, while he was still doing his best to hold down his thrashing brother as his claws scraped ear gratingly against his tough scaled skin searching for purchase. A grip to rip, tear, and leverage to bite and burn.

There was nothing he could do.

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**~Thanks for Reading ~ Xp**


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything as awesome as Firebreather or the wonder that is Harry Potter... wish I did.**

**P.s. Oracion de las Estrellas- No fan art yet, if anyone feels adventurous enough, feel free though :D**

**I'd make some, but I lack enough of the artistic ability and time to do so.**

**...Here you go you fantastic people of majesticness.**

* * *

He was frozen and the next thing he knew, he was bashing his brother's head into the ground over and over, trying desperately to knock him out. Which turned out to be harder than he thought. He guessed that kind of makes sense considering he was a super-human hybrid. As it was, all he was succeeding in doing was making a crater in the ground and enraging his brother further.

He even thought he heard a growl of displeasure from his father. Meanwhile the Kaiju were watching, their amusement and shouts urging him on growing. Along with some rather… distasteful comments aimed at him and his brother.

This was getting nowhere fast. So, in the few seconds he had been repeatedly bashing his brother into the ground, he let go. And then flung the blonde into the crowd of watching Kaiju. Let them take the brunt of his rage.

He bounded towards Hedwig and the demon trying to intercept him before contact, only to see the bird hoot in outrage and fly towards the unseen sky, leaving the unhappy and hungry Kaiju down below. Where Harry kicked it in the face and sent it flying til' he couldn't see it anymore.

"Bloody Kaiju," he grumbled, and listened to the screaming coming from the other end of the clearing. His father could be seen reaching into the crowd, pushing past some of the other strong Kaiju and picking his son up from the remains scattered everywhere. The smell of blood permeated the air, and the occasional arm or leg was ripped off the body. He gripped his son and raised him to head height, and then breathed a long stream of fire on him.

His brother struggled, and he didn't seem to be overtly injured by the flames, but after a while he went limp. _How?_

"Belloc! How-?"

"Not now." He gestured towards the rest of his people who were watching the exchange with interest. "Now, come with me."

He turned to his subjects and announced, "Leave! I do not want to be bothered by your petty concerns this night. Leave me to my heirs." He paused, and continued threateningly,

"I see any of you on the Overworld, and I rip your hearts out."

With that he turned and led Harry away, with Hedwig coming to land on his shoulder shortly after.

* * *

**-The surface-**

* * *

It was dark in the desert, naught but the softly lit sky to denote the time of day. It looked close to dawn.

"So, how did you knock him out? I don't think you hurt him much with your fire…"

Belloc turned to his son, and spoke without his omnipresent arrogant and overbearing demeanor. "Son, what is something that everyone does, whether they are large" he pointed to himself, "or small?" and pointed to Hedwig.

_Aghh, he was trying to teach him something._

"Uhhh…Walk, eat, sleep… breathe?"

"Yes, that's exactly it. Fire, no matter how it is conceived, whether it be in my gullet or from the tip of one of your wizard's wands, requires fuel to burn. This may be through magic, or from the air. I surrounded you brother in fire constantly, and it burnt all of the oxygen from the air."

"You… asphyxiated him?!"

"I did."

"But that could have killed him!

"Really? Do you really think that not being able to breathe for an extended period of time would be detrimental for us Kaiju?"

"Yes! Didn't you say before? Even Kaiju need to breathe!"

"That's just it my son, we don't NEED to breathe. It just allows us to function normally."

_Huh?_

"What?"

"Think. We Kaiju were absent from this world, we the first, and were gone for hundreds of thousands of years. Where did we go?"

"Well, I'd think the only places are… underwater, or underground?"

"Correct. Now, do you think that there'd be an unlimited supply of oxygen underground? No, there would not. Therefore, in the absence of a necessary ingredient for living, be it air, water, food, even an inhabitable atmosphere, we Kaiju just go dormant."

Wow. That was a bit of shocker.

"So, not only are you immortal, you're basically unkillable?"

He had the nerve to laugh at what he thought was a perfectly acceptable question.

"What?! If you can't be killed by a lack of things us humans would die of, and you are nearly impossible to kill, then how the hell am I supposed to have a chance?!"

He set his brother down in a random spot, and grabbed Harry pulling him up to his eyes.

"That is where you are wrong, my son, and you saw evidence of that tonight. "As he spoke he felt flashes aimed at him, the bloody entrails of a broken beast, scales and flesh rent, burnt through the bone.

"Nearly impossible to kill. But not impossible. We can still die when are throats are slashed, our spines crushed, and our hearts cut into pieces. Mortal wounds are our weakness. Hard as they are to inflict, we do not have the abilities of your people to heal any injury with a spell, or the medical care or the concern to bother with it. When we are hurt to the extent that time cannot heal, then we give up, and we die. As is the way of the Kaiju. We are creatures of flesh and blood, and one day we return to the Earth that gave us life."

"But aren't you afraid of death?"  
"That's a stupid question child. What sentient creature doesn't fear death? But we do not let it limit us."

His voice turned amused, "Much like you do not limit you. You, for all of your fragility and impermanence, have made a lasting impact on the world. You have goals, and you reach them, whether it be at the expense of yourself."

Harry felt guilty, he was here because he was running _away_ from his problems, how was that facing them! He voiced his thoughts only to get an amused rumble, "Boy, look in the pouch on that tiny bird's leg. You can't run away from your problems, only prepare yourself for them." Hedwig let out an outraged tweet, but she held out her leg, still perched uncomfortably on his shoulder.

He reached to grab it….

* * *

**oh my god. I am one of the worst people in the history of the world. SOOOOO SORRY. I was just writing another chapter, and I was checking the last update, and realized, it was last month today. So... before I continue writing the next chapter, I hope you enjoyed this one.**

**Thanks.**

**Oh, and those of you that Fav'd or Followed since the last chapter, you deserve a muffin. Thank YOU! \\(' . ')/ **

**A Muffin with a Mission 3**


	13. Chapter 13

Hello!I'm back to the realm of the internet, and the living. Sorry I was gone for so long. Life sucks in the way that it tears you away from the things that you like sometimes.

Anyway, enjoy this little tidbit.

**I don't own Firebreather, or Harry Potter, and this is solely for the enjoyment of myself and/or others and is not sold or that other stuff that goes along with that. Thanks.**

* * *

**Harry felt guilty, he was here because he was running **_**away**_** from his problems, how was that facing them! He voiced his thoughts only to get an amused rumble, "Boy, look in the pouch on that tasty tidbit's leg. You can't run away from your problems, only prepare yourself for them." Hedwig let out an outraged tweet, but she held out her leg, still perched uncomfortably on his shoulder.**

**He reached to grab it….**

* * *

**Chapter 13**

He gently removed the scroll tied to Hedwig's leg, which she good naturedly held out for him. After having it in hand, he took one finger and stroked along he face lightly, and in return he received a delighted hoot.

He couldn't keep the smile off his face. No matter what happened, Hedwig would always be there for him. There was more than one time that he worried about her flying into danger, but she could take care of herself. If anything, he knew that she was always more concerned for his well-being than her own. She was always looking out for him, and she would do anything to keep himself, and follow him into any kind of hell.

"Hedwig…you shouldn't have followed me…. But, thank you."

Unrolling the scroll, he thought he knew who it would be from. She wouldn't allow anyone else other than his friends to go near her, and there was no other reason than delivering letters that would have her near strangers.

The soft parchment was hard to unroll with his clawed hands, but he managed.

In it wasn't what he expected. He thought that it would be his friends wishing that he was coming home, them telling him about their days at Hogwarts.

_Oh, _he thought wistfully, _back when everything was normal._

Which was kind of ironic. But besides that, it wasn't like that. There was some stuff about Hogwarts, i.e. - Snape being a prat, same old Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry, his house's rankings and all, but there was more written in between the lines.

_Harry- How is it wherever you are? I hope this letter finds you well._

_Life in Hogwarts is much the same as it always is-eventful. I have a lot of homework to do, so we are never bored. The visits to the village have been canceled, it isn't really a safe place anymore. Everyone is enjoying the extracurricular activity we started, but it is getting harder to find people able to come because of all of the homework. Ms. McGonagall is trying to tone down the load, but it isn't working much._

_Gryffindor is still in the House rankings, which is brilliant. Not badly anyway. We can't seem to avoid detentions and getting points taken away. II am still getting straight O'S in most of my classes, and I am managing to make sure Ronald is still doing his homework. _

_It's not really the same without the twins here anymore for all of their stupid antics. But I hear that their shop is doing fine. _

_We are all saddened by the fact that Ms_. _Umbridge_ _is accepting a new job at the ministry. Ms. McGonagall is going to be helping out a lot after that. Thankfully._

_Not many people are actually writing each other anymore, they're worried about their owls. A lot of kid's birds have run off…. Or something else happened._

_We got a new professor, and he is a bit of a character. I swear, he is collecting all of the students that have any bit of fame, and trying to get in their good graces. He hasn't even batted and eye at Ron or I except to ask about you. _

He could just imagine her face.

_*Sniff* It seems we weren't worth his time. Or we weren't. These days Ronald is doing quite well at potions and I suspect it is due to this old battered book he borrowed from the cupboard. I might have forgotten my book that day- and YES I do forget things sometimes Harry, but he gave me the newer one to use. His was battered and torn and written in (the nerve of some people!). But there are things written in that book Harry, things I don't think anyone else, especially kids, were meant to see. I'm worried. It's attracting a bit of attention, ever since he won that Felix Felicus…. And he has become a bit of a prat to be around, boasting about his 'accomplishments' while hiding that stupid book under his pillow every night. Especially since he got onto the Quidditch team as a keeper… Katie is trying her best to manage the team, but she's having a hard time trying to get people to join. They don't have their wonder boy anymore._

_But Ron would say "Hello", or he would, if he wasn't being a bloody idiot. We… He is a bit cranky since you up and left without a word. I'm sure that's the other reason he has been avoiding me lately. He's nervous; no one knows what the family is doing anymore, and they haven't bothered to tell us since you aren't around. We're concerned… I'm quite sure that something's happening. The Ministry even gave Mr. Weasely a promotion. They would never have done that before. Not with his blatant support of you._

_Not to mention Professor Snape has finally got the position that he has always wanted. DADA teacher for the year. Knowing how that position goes through teachers faster than Ron goes through chocolate frogs or every flavour beans, I don't think we'll have him long. He and Dumbledore haven't spoken in public in weeks, and he is even more short-tempered than usual. I can't get anything right! He just keeps taking off points from anyone that's not a Slytherin. Not that's anything unusual._

_Harry, good luck in whatever you're doing, I'm sure it's important. Don't just disappear. We're your friends, and we'll support whatever decision you'll make. I… I just worry. I'm sure Ron does too. Don't write back, Hedwig's a good bird, she should stay safe. Ron'll get it into his head that you have your own decisions to make, and he'll get over it._

_Love, _

_Hermione_

Shit. He was such a bloody idiot! He had left his friends behind, and had barely spared them a thought. He had only thought about how he would miss them, not what he would be leaving them to. He should have stayed, should have thought of a way for them to make his new predicament work. Hermione-or Dumbledore could have thought of something. Heck! Dumbledore even gave him an option, but he had to think of his best interests for once, and now he was going to die of guilt.

It was obvious that things were going down at Hogwarts, Snape the Death Eater, in charge of Defense Against the Dark Arts. More likely how to best get yourself killed if you're not a bloody Slytherin, or how to best get your soul eaten by a Dementor. Great.

It seems like all of the wrong people were gaining power. Scrimgeour in the ministry (Though right now still better than Fudge. At least he recognizes the problem.) Snape in DADA, like he needed any other way to beat up his students other than mentally. And now apparently Ron was doing something foolhardy and dangerous. And even worse, he wasn't listening to Hermione. Which was bad. Really bad.

Hermione was the logic behind their whole group. She was the one who kept them from doing something foolhardy that would kill them more than half of the time.

"So, son. Is it good news?" The bastard had to know this would happen. Even without any kind of extensive knowledge of his personal life, which he REALLY shouldn't have, it would be obvious that he just couldn't pick up his bags and leave without any kind of repercussions. Especially for someone like him, with being tied to a deadly prophecy a decade in the making. Even longer if you counted that Voldemort was around long before Harry. He was Dumbledore old.

"I have a name you know!"

"I was aware." He replied rather stiffly, a disgruntled look on his reptilian face.

"Then why the hell don't you use it?" Harry was really starting to get pissed off by the whole thing. If he was talking to him, he might as well use his real name. Not only was it starting to piss him off, but it would invariably become a problem whenever Belloc would be trying to talk to one versus the other.

"I… am not overly fond of what happened to your name."

"…what happened to it?"

"Yes," his nose wrinkled in distaste. "It was such a nice name, and they went and changed it. I don't care much if it was for the sake of hiding your presence, or just because they wanted something easier to say, but I find it… mundane."

"Nothing's wrong with my name!"

"Son,"

He growled at the dragon, one more of irritation rather than actual ferocity.

"…Harry, your original name had much more meaning. Your mother named your brother- as such, I named you. Inti, after the fire that rests in my gullet, the fire that razes my enemies flesh." His glare was definitely in Harry's direction.

"As such, I refuse to address you by that name."

"I'm still going to go by Harry."

"I am not going to argue with you about this. I'm sure one day you will see it my way."

Whatever, dad.

Hedwig cooed softly from his shoulder, and Duncan groaned quietly into the sand.

"Now, let's move your brother, before he wakes up."

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**Hopefully no typos, but once again, I am not the grammar and spelling mistakes god. Or police. Either way, I only have the power of proof reading, and I'm not omniscient.**

**So thanks for any reviews, and point out any glaring, or not so glaring, errors on my part that might interrupt the flow of the story, or just plain annoy you.**

**Thanks**

**~A Muffin with a Mission 3**


	14. The Real Chapter 14

**Disclaimer!- Not mine!**

**Alrighty! Here we go!Yay!**

**Edit: Oh my...**

**='.'=**

**Thanks for Cho-No-Iro for noticing... I actually reposted an earlier chapter. **

**They were right next to each other in my Doc Manager for some reason, so misclick happened... Wow.**

**Here is the real chapter 14.**

**Chapter 14 **

This was not good. He really should've listened to his father after all, but how could he? But no, he had to go and run off before his brother could wake up. In the end, when he had seen him stirring, it had been a snap decision between,

"Oh, hell, he's waking up. What do I do?!" and "Stay calm, he's not going to punch me in the face."

Just staring into that semi-conscious face, he couldn't keep the nervousness from rising to the surface. Everyone up to this point in his life had rejected him in some way, had seen him as a freak. Except for a select few, and that was still out for the running.

So, against his better judgement, when his brother started to wake up, he ran away. Supposed hero of the wizarding world, running away from the only person his age that might possibly understand his predicament?

_Real smart Harry._

Where the heck was he supposed to hide anyway? It's not like there were very many places, just a rock or two in the distance.

Which is where he found himself currently. Here he was, sneaking along like someone with something to hide…I mean really?! What was he supposed to say to him, just

'Hi, I'm your long lost brother that you never knew you had, and I'm like you… but I'm also a freakin wizard?'

'Oh, and you might be one too?'

No way would that go over well, especially with no one that Duncan would know to back Harry up. Would he trust a random freak off the streets, especially with news that no ordinary person would easily believe? No. He wouldn't.

So hiding it was.

Even from this distance, he could see the blondes eyes fluttering as he woke up. First and foremost, he seemed confused, glancing about, before looking up at the sky. If Harry would be in his position, he'd be trying to figure out his approximate location, except Harry would've tried to use a spell, while Duncan didn't.

So he followed his brother to the trailer, hiding behind the occasional rock and staying far enough away that he wouldn't be noticed. Even with those extra precautions, he still occasionally had to throw himself to the ground and hope that no one would see him. An invisibility cloak would really come in handy about now. But sadly, he didn't have one. He had to listen to some pretty awkward stuff, what with the girl trouble.

His brother was oblivious. It was obvious that this Kenny kid had a crush on this Isabelle girl. The jealous edge to his voice was pretty obvious, and if he was saying that, it was kind of easy to see. But he wasn't really one to be saying anything, what with his unrequited crushes….. and Ginny.

So he was stuck skulking along like a normal human. Heh, he didn't think he'd be normal in any way ever again. Just his luck to have it in a way that wasn't exactly what he wanted. Story of his life.

-A While Later-

The sun settled more towards the edge of the horizon, the setting sun dying the sky a dusky red. As time had gone by and the conversation inside had gotten quieter and quieter until it just stopped, he had found himself beginning to doze in the cooling temperatures, a relief from the sharp heat of day.

He woke up, alert in a second however, to the sound of tires crumbling on a gravel driveway, turning off the poorly paved road. The sound of a door closing, muttered conversation, a few yes ma'am's, a few no ma'am's, and he knew his options were dwindling quickly. So, once heard Kenny go back inside (he may have known about Duncan, but he didn't necessarily need to know about him) he walked slowly into the open.

Being without any kind of cover, any kind of shelter made him nervous. He'd always been hiding from things, whether in the moment- the invisibility cloak, from view. Or the long term, Voldemort, from the truth. So being so vulnerable, nothing to hide behind, having to face the possibility of rejection from people he already cared about so much. The having to possibly face the idea that something he has always wanted, something that is just within his reach, within his sights. Only to be rejected, and hands breath away from the only actual blood relatives he'd ever had the chance of meeting.

But if he didn't reach for it, he'd have to live with the knowledge that he'd been so close, and it'd have been his own fear to hold him back. Plus, backing out wasn't really an option with that stupid dragon looming over his shoulder, if he didn't do anything, his only option was to go back to him… or Hogwarts. Which still really wasn't an option either with him stuck in his current state.

The car wasn't … exactly what he expected, it was too normal. The exact opposite of what he expected a wizard who had a relationship with a Kaiju. Let alone the king of the Kaiju, and who had a son tougher than most tanks.

His feet made prints in the sandy terrain, feet sinking in inches as he walked towards the car.

They didn't see him.

"Excuse me."

Nothing.

"Hello!"

_Oh you've got to be kidding me._

At this point the doors were closed; the engine was starting and they were already pulling out, the car revving, wheels turning on the giving earth.

* * *

**Duncan's POV**

* * *

They had been driving for less than five minutes when something flashed in front of their car. It had been silent, his mother just driving, and him thinking about the earlier incident with his father. Clenching his fist and opening it, noticing the harder nails, the pointier tips, and the thick skin on the knuckles.

And suddenly his mom was swerving, and he was instinctively gripping the arms of the seat. Tires squealed, and there was a resounding crack as something hit the windshield of the car. They kept moving, as they went off the road, car rolling into a shallow ditch by the side. He was practically sideways, but otherwise fine, thanks to his hardy constitution, but he wasn't sure about his mom.

"Ugh, Mom, you alright?

She was trying to breathe around the airbag that had popped out of the wheel, muttering a hasty "Fine, sweetie. As soon as I get out of this, we're going to get the car out of the ditch, and then we're going to leave alright? Whatever that creature was could still be close by."

"Moommmm," he whined, before taking his nails and poking a whole in the side of the airbag, allowing it to deflate, releasing both of them from their respective restraints.

Shhing him, she reached into the car panel and pulled out a small laser rifle, and he heard a slight whirring as it came to life.

About to open the car door, she heard the sound of shifting on the other side, and she quickly brought the gun up, shoulders squared ready to fire as soon as the door opened. Hearing a hand on the other side of the door, she heard a soft,

"Sorry about that… I just wanted to get your atten-"

The door creaked open and she saw a flash of tired eyes, a weak smile, before she tightened her grip on the gun- against her instincts, and fired.

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**Sorry it's short. Longer chapters just worsen my terminal disease- procrastination. I actually have a chapter coming up though, that is about 2500 words! That's like a record for me!**

**Also, Review!**

**Love you guys, A Muffin with a Mission 3**

**also... I tried my best to give you some kind of representation of what Harry looks like, as the cover art...I'm no artist, but no way my brother would draw something for me.I tried my best, hope it helps a bit, **Oracion de las Estrellas.-** If anything, I can say I tried.**


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer:**

**I don't own anything that might count as awesome to anyone, or anything.**

**Here's another one. Enjoy!**

**Chapter 15**

* * *

**Margaret's POV**

* * *

The blast echoed in the remains of the car, bright light flashing ass the laser rebounded slightly, leaving the behind the smell of slightly singed flesh and scales. The slightly hazy air undulated as the creature in front of her raised its hand, before it reached slowly for her. She tightened her hold on the gun in response, before the coarse hand slowly but surely rested the appendage on her weapon, claws scratching slightly on hers, and did what she didn't expect. She expected it to come surging at her, aimed for her throat. She expected for it to push aside her hands, to make a grab for her exposed throat. To throw the gun from her fingers, to lash out in any way it could, considering she hit it point blank with a laser pistol. To express its anger like she expected any monster to. With rage and violence.

But it did none of what she expected; rather, it just reached through car's doorway, slow and patient, until its hand came to rest over hers that trembled slightly holding the gun. Which was strange, as she never shook and was composed in even the direst of circumstances. But something about this was different than usual, it felt more important than many of things that had happened in her life up to this point. Like her fate was teetering on the edge of a steep cliff, and her actions now could doom her forever.

She could hear Duncan rummaging around in the background.

And then its hand slowly pushed the gun down, towards her lap. This was within the bounds of what she expected, but it reached its other hand towards her, and she forced herself to make her eyes look past the rough hand moving closer and closer towards her face and look into its eyes (It was almost touching her now).She saw many things. Sincerity, and more than a little bit of fear. But what really went deep and sent a pang through her heart was the desperate hope that just radiated from the well of its-no his eyes. It was all directed at her. Then the next thing she knew, the surprisingly soft pads of his palm were touching her cheek and he thumbed across the skin beneath her eye.

He whispered it so quietly, she almost didn't hear it, "Mum."

Then Duncan jumped from where he was slowly sidling around the side of the car and punched him in the face. He flew for a tens of feet and left a shallow depression in the sandy terrain. He didn't get up.

She couldn't stop herself from staring at him, the creature, no more than a boy really, and he called her mom. She definitely wasn't expecting to see him here. Oh, , no no no no nonononononono.

Shit, shit, she had made a terrible mistake.

"Oh, no, Duncan… Duncan…."

He was still in front of her, shaking her slightly, as she was stiff in his arms.

"Mom! Mom! Did he hurt you?! Are you okay?! Crap... CRAP, CRAP! What should I do…"

"Duncan."

"Okay. Okay, 911, right? Yeah, that sounds right. Okay, 911 it is."

"Duncan."

"Where is the dang phone?" He turned around to dig through the wreckage of the car in a panicked attempt to find the phone, throwing random junk- part of a seat, a cup holder- out in frantic tosses.

"Duncan!" With that he popped out of the side door,

"What!?" And then he looked like he wanted to take the words back.

"What did you say, young man?"

"…nothing mom."

"That's what I thought. Now, stop making even more of a mess, and help me move this kid to the side of the road."

"Huh?" She could just imagine the comical look of confusion on his face. In any other circumstances she'd be smiling. Right now, she couldn't seem to produce even the slightest tilting of lips.

"Less lip, more action."

With that he ducked away from the back seat and to the front of the car, where she was trying to grab a limb, and he joined her on the other side of the limp form.

Grunting, he managed to support most of the unexpectedly heavy load, with her stabilizing as they moved. His eyes widened when he saw the injuries inflicted on the other guy, "…dang, mom. What'd he do to you?"

She didn't bother to answer as she reached down she rested her hand against the young man's singed chest, trying to feel its movement, only relaxing when she found it.

"So…Mom? Any idea what he might have wanted before he ended up with a blast to the chest?"

She couldn't help the sigh that rushed past her lips, "I might have some idea, Sweetie."

"…So? What's the verdict?"

"It might be a little surprising… and I'm not entirely sure." _Not that there is much of a chance that I'm wrong. -_She added internally.

They spent a few minutes waiting for some kind of sign that Barnes- and most likely a whole fleet of soldiers, were on their way.

She surprised herself by speaking, "Duncan?"

He seemed startled but recovered well enough, followed by "Yeah, Mom?"

"Do me a favor. Look at him. What do you see?"

"Well, I see a guy… with scales, and sharp arms, and teeth, and a wicked face scar. Kinda cool actually. An interesting kind of guy, except for the fact that he caused us to crash into a ditch."

"That's not what I meant, sweetie. Look. Really look- don't use your eyes. Close them, and use your other senses, and I don't mean the usual ones."

He was just on the verge of rolling his eyes, she knew it, "Duncan. No lip, just do what I told you, and really try."

She almost had him. So she just gave him the Mom look, and he instantly caved. She smiled a bit inside. He wasn't immune to her yet.

"Fine, I'll try."

She could tell that in the first second that he wasn't working at it at all. He was just humoring her, but she could see as the moments passed and his face transitioned from constipated (like he was trying _really_ hard) to just plain confused she knew it.

He was learning the secret she had locked away all of those years ago. What she hadn't expected was that her other son, the one she had given up, to return to her, least of all under these kind of circumstances. Really, the way fate works really needs some kind of tweaking. All it seems to know is cruel jokes.

But she could see from the way that his face was growing blank, how his breathing deepened and how he leaned in the direction of the unconscious boy. He _could _feel something. He most likely didn't know what, but she had a feeling that he was uncomfortable with it.

Maybe smell a bit of himself or his father in him, or some kind of weird mental or spiritual connection.

"Mom… who is this guy?"

They were interrupted by the soft sound of engines humming, and the sight of displaced sand rising off the ground as something invisible landed. There was a slight shimmer to those parts, and the image of the uninterrupted desert landscape in front of them and was bisected horizontally by a straight line cleaving the image apart revealing softly gleaming steel, and tinted glass.

As expected. And also completely unexpected, because she forgot about the goddamned safety beacon she had in her car's dashboard. What she wasn't expecting however, was the next instance of flying red sand. And the next, the next, and so on. Or the trucks pulling up out of nowhere, that were swiftly turning into weapons of mass destruction, and unsurprisingly, tanks.

She couldn't help but glance around in surprise, and the small grimace that came to her face. Had there been one- with that idiot Barnes, she could have slipped this by him. He always had a thing for her, and that made him easy to manipulate. She could have spun a tail so tight he wouldn't suspect a thing. Probably. But this? With so many agents, with so much weaponry? No chance.

Only a few seconds after the initial touchdown, and already they were surrounded, weapons pointed towards away from their quickly converging group, and thankfully no one had brought up the unmoving lump on the floor. Yet. But someone would, soon, and there was nothing she could do about it.

The stupid flirt, instead of strutting about as she thought he would, strode confidently, but she could tell by the way his hand kept twitching towards the pistol strapped securely to his hip, or the way he had his rifle situated for easy access, he was nervous. Very nervous.

"Margaret, we've received a distress beacon from this location, we've come for a pick up."

He retained his standard cocky tone of voice, underlined with a sort of eagerness that she wasn't exactly excited to hear. It sounded like the last time he had a target painted on some creatures back.

And unless he found a way to destroy Belloc- the living incarnation of several atomic bombs. And maybe a meteor- the one that killed off the dinosaurs, and most everything else.

But he wouldn't be so nervous, he'd be more triumphant, openly flirting and dancing around in his fancy suit of armor. He wouldn't be so twitchy. So she eyed him warily as he came closer, as groups of soldiers ran this way and that, trying to pinpoint something. It really wasn't good.

She scoffed, "This isn't regulation for standard asset pickup- this is full-blown search and destroy. No matter how into me you are,"

Here his face turned a slightly discomfited pink, before he quickly squashed any form of outward emotion save arrogance. Which he always had in spades. "So what's the deal?"

His eyes hardened and his lips flattened themselves into a thin line, and he pulled up an arm, hologram already forming in the air.

"No. We've got ourselves a situation on our hands. We've got a new kaiju, energy readings coming from this exact location, powerful too, more than the freaks, in his current state. Looks like it might have slightly more advanced aether manipulation abilities than the average kaiju."

His glare turns to Duncan, "Which we haven't seen in just about fifteen years, and you know how that one happened the last time someone went and decided to fuck a walking, fire breathing sky scraper."

That bastard.

Her eyes narrowed, and she was a quarter of a second from having her fist greet his face, regardless of the boy she had managed to position behind her, slightly hidden on one side by the car, and easy to miss close to the ground.

_Thank god the radars hadn't come this way yet._

But Duncan beat her to it, the next second he was pushing Barnes back, with an angry growl. Of course this pushed him practically off of his feet, eyes turning slit and angry.

He was back on his feet in no time at all, just about chest to chest with her son, Duncan looking up, and Barnes looking down. "I. Am only half kaiju."

He ground out, his teeth glinting as he spoke, dyed red by the setting sun. Barnes himself let out a feral grin, "It only takes half to be a threat."

Duncan's eyes narrowed further, fists clenched, and she swore that his claws, able to damage a kaiju's tough skin, would be digging rivulets into his palms.

"I am not a monster!" he hissed, looking the arrogant Bastard straight in the eye.

He returned the look coldly, save for the gleam of satisfaction that she knew he felt. "It's said that you can tell what a person is like when you look them in the eyes. What does that make them if they're slit, and flaming?"

and as he said this he turned his visor reflective, letting the kid get a full glimpse of his enraged face. This had him reeling back, eliciting a laugh from the man.

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Sorry to end it there, guys. I'm looking forward to the next chapter.


	16. Chapter 16

Hi everyone... Nice to see you all again.

Now in Japanese 201... really enjoying myself... working my butt off, and doing tons of homework...Please don't hex me... burn me.. or shoot me with any kind of ray/normal gun. I'd appreciate it. My only excuses are a lack of time, and the assurance that regular updates will still be few and far between. Time is a commodity, that I lack. For those of you who know some Japanese, I have a bit of a bonus for you!

**こんにちは みなさん。ひさしぶりですね。ごめんなさい、はなしをかきませんでした。じかんがありませんでした。**

(Forgive me any mistakes... I avoided Kanji, even though I'm not half bad at them, in order to focus on grammar... which I'm not always particularly confident about. EVER.)

**Warning: We've got a bit of violence in this chapter, and if you don't like mild-ish cursing, blood and pain, you might want to skip this one.**

Enjoy the chapter. :)

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**Chapter 16**

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**Duncan P.O.V.**

Duncan was certainly uncomfortable to tell the truth. No idea what was going on, surrounded on all sides, and his most vulnerable family member was in danger. It certainly made him want to growl and posture, show them that he wasn't scared of the threat. That he could more than handle any threat to his family. But he was scared, he was only a teenager for god's sake. There wasn't much he could do against a whole freakin' organization out to get him and anyone half-like him. Especially a group supported by the public, and an open fear, if not vendetta against an entire species hunted like animals. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, and the few were a small number indeed. What's a guy to do when you're in the minority of less than a couple thousand (Less than that, if you meant just like him) versus a veritable army of upwards of seven billion?

Nothing. That's what.

A growl was still torn from his throat anyway- which embarrassingly came out as more of a whine, 'cause Barnes freaked him out. Startled him out of the red haze that was starting to fill his vision and had him hearing more than the rapid shudders of his heart, and the tensing of his muscles.

But he knew that instinct wouldn't help- if anything it was _wrong -_at least alone, and it'd cause more problems in the long run. As it was, Barnes and his crew were already more than ready to have the key to his cell on their key chain. (He had a terrible feeling he'd be pretty popular.)

So while he sat, ass on the ground, the bastard had the audacity to smirk at him, before turning back to his Mom, while some stupid mook was whispering in his ear. Who still had her back to the scaled kid obviously trying to shield him from the eyes of MEGTAF.

Hell, he had no problems with that, considering that he wished he was under the radar, but that had never been an option, considering that MEGTAF had been monitoring him as early as preschool and even before that.

So he found himself in a quite a vulnerable position, did he make himself the center of attention? Keep Barnes from noticing the unconscious kid? Or use him as a scapegoat to try to get out of here intact…

Obvious choice.

"So, Margaret… any reason why you've neglected to mention the brat doing a corpse impersonation behind you? This thing", he gestured lazily, confidently towards a scanner held in the hands of a man to his right, "however, rather than alerting us to it's presence- which we were aware of in the first place by the way." He sent her a knowing look,"you've let the geeks wander around like fools." The corners of his lips turned upwards,

"Any particular reason for that?"

Too knew from the mom seemed to realize it too, and stood to her full height, back straight and voice confident, "There's no one here Barnes."

Duncan could hear the delicate quaver under the hard steel of her voice, resonant in a way he was sure only he could hear. Barnes walked right up to her, way closer than he was comfortable with, until their chests were almost touching. "Is that your story Margaret? No second chances. You're going to have to make your choice now."

Her voice was final, "There is no choice. There was never one to make. There is no one here but me."

His sigh was disappointed, "If you say so Margaret. But I'm going to do my job, and this here is an unknown. If you want us to stand back and let another monster free reign of the city, it's not going to happen. Especially if this creature is anything like the other one."

Here a glare in his direction, which he met unflinchingly. There was no way he was going to get another rise out of him. Not this time. "Now move out of the way Margaret. You're just going to make things harder for yourself, and for the kid. When he is in our custody, and he will be in our custody, don't you doubt that Margaret. He'll get better treatment than if you try to play this off. Not to mention," his voice turned sly, "it'd be all too easy to get your son's school rights revoked. MEGTAF is all too ready to have him opened up on a table."

Oh, he did not just say that, did he? No way, No freaking way, he wanted to get the hell out of here.

"You and I both know that we're not allowed to play around with the humans, but them," he gestured to Duncan and the other kid, "they have no rights. No rules. And their innards would have some pretty interesting tales to tell, I'd bet. Kaiju anatomy, mixed with your lineage… no doubt the one over there shares a bit of your talents."

"So, tell me one more time that there's no one there, and you lose both of them. No one else to blame than yourself, for your past mistakes, and your current ones. Now, one more chance. Choose."

His Mom was biting her lip so hard the skin was becoming discolored, bruised. One good chomp away from bleeding, eyes serious, and faint wrinkles appearing around her eyes. His Mom usually looked so young… but in this moment she looked far older than her 37 years.

Without speaking, she spit in Barnes face, and when the goons made move to attack,she stood silently aside as they were quietly surrounded and held at gun point.

His only reaction was to speak quietly into his comm,"Command central, we've got hostiles. I repeat, we have two hostiles. Over."

He could hear the static on the other end, "Roger that, Agent. Reinforcements necessary?"

"Negative. Situation is under control."

He couldn't hide his disgust for the actions of the group, "You cowards! Hiding behind your guns, held captive by your fear and bias. In your firm belief that anything _different_, anything not _normal_, is something to be lorded over, to be captured, experimented upon, and if deemed un-useful, ultimately culled."

He didn't know exactly where all of this was coming from, up to that point in time he had very little thoughts related to MEGTAF. He thought of it in passing, but he had yet to have any kind of grudge against them. He knew they had very little regard towards anyone considered unusual, but his mother had always kept him safe. So he never thought of them. But now, more than before, he felt a kind of rage that he had never felt. Rotten, as if it had festered hidden, disdain as if he were gazing upon something beneath him, and a slight tingle of nervousness down the back of his spine that only enhanced his rage. Anger that went back ages, over a decade, a stream to a river, wearing down at his self-control.

Screaming _kill, kill, kill, kill, _but also_ protect, protect, protect._ Protect the mother, protect the…. The only way he could interpret this feeling was clutch? Or a better translation might be pack-mate? It could only mean… and it only added to the agony that was aching in his breast.

So, there he was, drunk on emotions he couldn't explain or understand, and a pounding headache behind his slit eyes and gritted teeth practically ready to stagger around, wobbling with each step. And then he saw- no he _felt_, Barnes motion with his arm for someone to grab the kid-family-pack-mate, _his_, and the next second he was across the distance to the agent, arm caught in a crushing grip at the joint. He could feel the bones creaking, cracking, splintering, and the next thing he knew, his claws were bursting through skin, and the man, no, the boy was crying out, good hand attempting to staunch the sluggish leaking of blood.

At this point he had come to, when he had held the officer by the throat. _That_ close, jaws inches from an armored throat, and he had seen the kids eyes, eyes that were pain _pain pain fear. _They were young, if not innocent, then naive, and they were brown. A deep chocolate that reminded him of his mother and he couldn't stop the cracked, "I'm sorry. I… I am so sorry."

He backed away, leaving the kid practically sobbing his agony into the ground, and he couldn't stop his shaking hands. He couldn't stop how he tried to wipe the blood off his fingers on sleeves and pants. How he could still see the blood underneath his nails, even in the dark. Or in the glare of the flood lights.

Really. The injury wasn't actually that bad. He could just convince himself. The cuts were glancing, barely piercing the flesh. The real injury wasn't that, but really how the lower arm reached towards the ground at an angle that clearly wasn't natural. He had grabbed the joint hard enough to shatter it, and it showed. The guilt had his own fingers digging into his steel hard skin, hoping to make at least an imprint. But he only felt the pressure.

He'd never actually hurt a _person_ before. Sure, he'd scared a few bullies, or threw a few balls at a few heads, but he'd never actually injured anyone to this extent. Before he'd only fought other kaiju, never an actual human being. It made him sick. And really, weapons and armor aside, humans were so fragile.

"I never wanted this to happen. I only wanted you to leave my family alone." He whispered, loud against the deceptive quiet. It was like a tightly wound trap, any movement would lead to an undesirable outcome. And if no one moved, it would happen anyway.

Barnes strut forward, all signs of cockiness erased, leaving only military grade protocol, knowledge, and tactics. If Barnes was an android, he'd have felt that he had a target locked onto his face, accompanied by the words 'target acquired'. His next words froze him where he stood, finally stopping the shaking.

"Sorry, Margaret. Forget the deal. At this point, we have no choice but to take action. That agreement was made under the assumption that no human being would ever be harmed by him, and that he stayed under Titan Class in power. Before tonight, one of those rules had already been violated. But because of his good behavior and pro-human actions and attitude, we had pardoned it. With this act however, we have no choice to bring both of your sons into custody."

So he was right about the feeling of family. His Mom wasn't denying it. It only made their situation worse, and he was in no condition to think about it now.

As if taking a cue, the remaining men- minus the one clutching his arm on the floor, set their aim at one individual. Not him, but his mother. "Barnes!" he cried, eyes wide,"What the hell are you doing?! She has nothing to do with this!"

"That's where you're wrong, kid. You're mother had been with the enemy. The only reason she was allowed free was because she had the possibility of raising the greatest weapons for," a glance in his direction, "or weapons against humanity that we could have."

As an afterthought he added, "Plus, she allowed herself to be examined for her abilities. Normally Aether manipulators stay in hiding or away from humanity at large, though being humans themselves. As we'd rather avoid war on two sides, we were largely uninformed of their abilities. Margaret proved to be an exception, joining MEGTAF, because of Margaret our knowledge has grown in leaps and bounds."

He came to stand in front of Duncan, before backing up so his back was to the group, "After she outlived her usefulness in research, her people had effectively banished her, and her freedom was largely based on your usefulness and good behavior. Now, she is back to the cells. Thanks for that. Now Margaret, you'll be seeing a lot of me."

The last sentence was almost growled. He could hear the weapons starting to charge up, ready to shoot their damaging rays at his most important person. Just as the weapon was about to fire, he managed to push his way to his feet, and move faster than the weapons shot. Right in front of his mother.

As he got hit, he immediately crumpled to the floor, clutching his lower leg. Not a shot to kill, but one to incapacitate, and rather than the multitude, only one gun had fired. Barnes's.

The electricity running through his body made him twitch, small cries of pain filling his head. He tried to speak, as his teeth chattered and his hand twitched, biting his tongue. "What the h-hell do you-you think you are d-doing?" Small amounts of blood collected in his mouth, running against his tongue, and created a disgusting slick feeling in the back of his throat.

Barnes walked forward, followed by the eyes and silence of his entourage, as he placed the barrel of his gun against Duncan's left shoulder and without speaking pulled the trigger. The second shot made his frustrations vocal, with cries of pain erupting violently from his throat, as he writhed.

He hunched up leaning back to luck up at Barnes, as his arm angled further down, and the smirk on his face was disturbing to see. He fired again, at this point he was practically crying as he hunched forward clutching his wounded gut. "You basta…ds"

He could hear a soft voice behind him, pleading, a warm voice, "No, no baby. Don't get up, stay down. Stay down, baby." Soft hands touched his arm, aborting the short and stuttered movement in the voices direction, forcing it back to the ground. It lay there twitching. He let out another whine, was he displeasing that voice? The one that made him feel small and safe? That hand was quickly jerked away, forcing his head up, only for his eyes to be met with a visor and a lined mouth, hands holding his limbs down. A weight settled on his back legs on either side of his chest, and his face was forced into the dusty ground, mouth filling with silty earth. He was vulnerable. He was in pain, and he wanted his mother. "M..om" he called out, hand lifting slightly despite the pressure, only for him to be cuffed up the side of his head for the motion. The crying continued.

"Outnumbered, even with a small army. When there is no chance of victory, humans gather information, gather strength, confidence, and we band together. When there is no chance of victory, when the enemy can annihilate you ultimately. We find weaknesses, and we aren't so strong as to not use the advantages we have in order to keep ourselves safe. Any non-human, is an outsider. Your little speech wasn't wrong. MEGTAF was created for that very reason. We find the threats, analyze them, and then we. Take. Them. Out."

Just then his face was ground further into the earth and a needle was forced through his dense skin and into the back of his neck. The darkness around him dulled, blurring with the light, and in the back of his mind he could hear thousands of growls-somehow comforting. And then he was gone.

He didn't see as he was gathered loosely by the arms and dragged through the dirt to the back of one of the ships, as he was chained to the ground, by the feet, the wrists, and the neck. Or how his brother was met by the same fate.

Barnes walked past her, and she was enraged, "What the hell?! All of that shit and you go and leave me behind?! Arrest me! Take me with you! That whole spiel about how you were going to drop me back in prison? What the hell happened to that?!"

Barnes only looked once back at her as he got in a jet, "At this point, we don't need anything more from you. It'd just be a waste of resources. I'd just have to kill you. So, Just. Deal. With. It. Margaret."

Then the vehicles took off, leaving Margaret there standing behind in the dust. Alone.

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**Hope you enjoyed the chapter, its a bit longer than what I would normally write, thing is, I had a lot of inspiration, and was having way too much fun.**

**Till next time, ~ A Muffin with a Miss**i**on**


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